The Anatomy of Kind
by SeverEstHolmes
Summary: Sequel to Strength From Travail. Seven years after John adopted his nephew, Innes, and things appear to have been easy sailing... until now. Johnlock.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: ****Disclaimer: The characters of Sherlock Holmes, Dr. John Watson, Mycroft Holmes, Inspector Lestrade, Mrs Hudson and James Moriarty are the intellectual property of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and I hold no claim upon them.**

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The ringing of the telephone broke Sherlock's intense concentration, he was moments away from identifying a particular chemical which would secure a conviction on a case that he was currently working on.

"What?" He asked gruffly, grabbing the phone and thrusting it at his ear; he did not appreciate being interrupted.

"Mr. Holmes?" A woman's voice asked down the receiver.

"Yes?" Sherlock continued impatiently, his hand dangling precariously over a test tube, frozen in the moment before auctioning the experiment.

"This is Miss. Henderson, from the office at Hampden Gurney." Sherlock began to pay a little bit more attention once the name of Innes' school was mentioned. "Innes isn't feeling very well; could you possibly come and collect him?" The hand that had been holding the fabric to be tested in the experiment had dropped down onto the bench as his concentration slipped from his work to the conversation about Innes.

"How is he not feeling well?" Sherlock inquired, beginning to cover up the chemicals he had been using and carefully replacing the evidence still to be tested back into their sterile holders.

"He's been complaining of feeling sick, the school nurse checked him over and she said he is a bit pale and shivery." Miss. Henderson explained. "It could be the beginning of a cold or something, we just think it'd be best for Innes to come, s he's not feeling well enough to sit in class."

"Alright, I'll be there as soon as I can." Sherlock told her, "Thanks." Sherlock surveyed his work bench, it wasn't in the tidiest of states; he knew he had to tidy it up at some point today before John arrived home from his work conference. He had intended to tidy up while Innes was still at school, but he would have to work around him now. He glanced at his watch, it was only twenty past eleven – he would probably have enough time to finish his work and tidy up before John got home. Sherlock grabbed his set of car keys and headed to pick Innes up.

As he was driving he felt one of those uncommon pangs that occasionally gripped him; what if Innes wasn't well because of something Sherlock had done while John was away at his conference? What if it was his fault and John would get annoyed and upset with him for not looking after Innes well enough? Sherlock shook his head slightly, attempting to dispel this kind of thought – John loved him, and he knew that they both made mistakes… but Sherlock had helped Innes with his homework, made his packed lunches for school and his dinner for when he arrived home, made sure he was in bed at a reasonable time and had even remembered to wash his school uniform this time! It couldn't be something that he had done – the school receptionist was probably right, perhaps Innes was getting a cold. John would likely check Innes when he got home: Innes' health had always been one of John's priorities. Not that he had actually been unwell a lot of the time, or practically any of the time – Sherlock could count on one hand the number of times that Innes had been to the doctors in the entirety of his life. Perhaps this worry of John's had stemmed from Innes' birth…

Innes' birth had heralded an entirely new period in John and Sherlock's lives. It had been much more profound on John, but Sherlock would have been lying if he didn't acknowledge the change it had on his life also. Although Innes knew both Sherlock and John as his parents, John was actually his uncle. John's sister, Harriet, had been Innes' mother, but due to complications that had arisen during her pregnancy; Innes had been born thirteen weeks early, so premature that they had been terrified he wouldn't survive… Sherlock could remember how tiny Innes had been – almost small enough to fit inside one of his palms, but he had been quite the fighter! Harry had not been so lucky, shortly after Innes was born, she had crashed with internal bleeding – and the doctors had been unable to save her. It had hit John hard – the loss of his sister and the sudden responsibility of having to care for a premature new born. Considering the pressure and grief that John had been under, Sherlock could not help but feel proud of him for the way he had handled everything. John had made sure that he was alright, so that he could give Innes the care that he actually deserved. Only recently had John begun to open up about Harry, Sherlock suspected that it was for Innes' benefit, but also that it had been too painful for John before – he had blamed himself for so much. Perhaps it was this history, along with John's nature as a doctor, that kept John on edge when it came to Innes' health… They had been incredibly fortunate, however, they had had seven years with Innes barely getting a cold!

Sherlock drew up to the outside of Innes' school, parking in the smallest parking bay he had seen in his life (whoever designed it must have been deluded about the actual size of a car!). He had never agreed with John about this school; John had been adamant that he didn't want Innes to go to a private school, whereas Sherlock was sure that it would be just what Innes needed as support. Innes was incredibly capable and intelligent – maybe the influence of having two professional working parents who were conscious about cultivating his mind, or perhaps it was the luck of the genes. Sherlock felt that Innes should be being challenged more – that his current school were more concerned about the welfare of the entire class than the education of the individual students. Apparently that's what education was like now. Sherlock and John had quarrelled fiercely when Innes was at the age to start school because Sherlock felt that private education would support Innes best, but John – having been a product of state education himself –knew that it was possible to do well in a state school as well as private. John had been coming round to Sherlock's point of view, especially as Sherlock's mother had announced that she had set up a fund for Innes so that he could have a "decent" secondary education – which, of course, meant private. Innes was intelligent, and curious – far too curious for normal teachers to be able to explain in depth what he wanted to know…

"Hello?" Sherlock called through a small glass hatch at the entrance to the school's reception. A very young girl, no older than sixteen, came rushing through to the hatch and slid across the glass. "I'm here to collect Innes Watson, I received phone call from Miss. Henderson saying he's not feeling well. "

"Oh!" Her eyes widened as the tips of her fingers played absent-mindedly with her chocolate coloured hair. "I'll get Miss. Henderson for you." She scuttled off through the small entrance room into what must have been the main office inside the school. "Miss. Henderson, there's a guy here to pick up Innes."

"What do you mean, 'a guy'?" Sherlock could hear Miss. Henderson asking the girl. "It'll be Mr. Holmes, buzz him through." The girl, obviously on work experience of some sort Sherlock noted, reappeared back through, looking slightly embarrassed.

"Just come through." She was pressing the buzzer which unlatched the door.

"Thanks." He pulled open the door into the main reception area where Miss. Henderson was waiting.

"Sorry about that, Jenny's not quite used to working in an office." She apologised.

"Work experience?" Sherlock questioned, glancing around to see where Innes would be waiting.

"Yes." She answered, unsurprised that Sherlock could tell; he could sense some frustration in her tone, probably from being saddled with the young girl who would more have liked to be in a classroom helping teach than be in an office helping with the photocopying.

"I couldn't get a hold of Mr. Watson." Miss. Henderson continued, as the young girl poked her head around the door.

"Yes, he's at a conference in Germany at the moment." Sherlock clarified.

"Ah, alright. I've just got a form for you to sign just so we know that Innes has been collected by someone." She produced a form with a pen for Sherlock to sign. "I'll just go and get him; he's sitting in the nurse's bay." Miss. Henderson went off to bring Innes round, and the work experience girl just stood there, gawking awkwardly at Sherlock as he signed the pick up form. He bit his tongue to prevent him from saying something he would most likely regret; luckily, before his self-restraint broke Miss. Henderson reappeared with Innes shuffling along beside her. Innes was pale, paler than normal anyway – his sandy coloured hair appearing darker against his skin.

"Father." He mumbled, moving to stand over next to Sherlock; who put a protective hand on Innes' shoulder.

"We'll need a note of absence for this afternoon." Miss. Henderson told Sherlock, who nodded and replied:

"That's fine."

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**A/N: This is the first chapter in a continuing story, but I'd absolutely love to hear what you think of it so far! :)**


	2. Chapter 2

"Right, let's get you home." Sherlock leant across in front of Innes to pull his seat belt and fasten it into its latch. "If you feel sick, tell me straight away, alright?" Innes nodded mutely, he was fiddling with the sleeve of his blazer. As Sherlock manoeuvred the car out of the parking bay and began to pull away. Innes spoke:

"I'm sorry father." He mumbled, much quieter and more reserved than he usually was.

"Why are you saying sorry Innes?" Sherlock questioned, trying to pay as much attention to the road and Innes equally.

"For wanting to come home." He replied.

"It's alright Innes, you don't have to be sorry about not feeling well." Sherlock said comfortingly. "What is it? Is there something bothering you Innes?" Innes remained silent, "Someone at school? Has someone been saying something to you?" Sherlock asked; he felt immensely awkward with this situation – normally it was John who did the talking, important feelings stuff, Sherlock could never quite get the hang of it… but John had mentioned at some point that kids react physically to some things – John had explained how he used to get headaches while he was in school because he was being bullied, maybe this was the same thing. "Anyone – uh – anyone picking on you or anything?"

"No father." Innes shook his head again.

"Are you sure?" Sherlock questioned, just in case Innes was trying to pretend.

"Yes."

"So what's wrong?" He pressed.

"My tummy hurts." Innes said, his voice even smaller than before.

"Is it just your stomach? Not your head or anything as well?"

"No, just my tummy." Innes answered.

"Right, okay." Sherlock pulled into his space around the back of his flat. "I'll get your bag for you." Sherlock scooped Innes' backpack and led him towards the door of the flat.

Once they had climbed the stairs to the living room of the flat, Sherlock pushed Innes lightly on the back: "You go and get changed Innes, put on your pyjamas or something. I'll get you a drink and something for your stomach." Sherlock dropped Innes' school bag at the end of the sofa and perched back on his chair at his lab bench. He wasn't quite sure what you were supposed to do while looking after a sick child – Innes wasn't _that _unwell, he hadn't been sick and as far as Sherlock could tell, there wasn't anything else wrong with him. "Oh god John… why do you go away without telling me what I should do if these eventualities occur?" Sherlock mumbled to himself, grabbing a clean glass from the draining board next to the sink and filling it up with water. He paused for a second and remembered the first time that John had gone away to a conference, John had left a list with practically anything and everything that could happen so that Sherlock would know what to do if anything did happen… And he also remembered that he had ripped up that list and been utterly offended that John hadn't trusted him enough, or believed that he was capable to look fter Innes. Most of the time Sherlock was logical enough to work through any situation that he got himself into; despite this, feelings stuff was always John's category and Sherlock would rather it be left that way.

"Father?" Innes had reappeared down the stairs wearing his gym kit.

"How are you feeling Innes? Does your stomach still hurt?" Sherlock asked, one hand inside the cupboard that John had turned into a medicine cabinet. "I'll get you some calpol." He rummaged his hand around inside the cupboard until he found what he was looking for. "Here we go." Sherlock ripped open the sachet of calpol and took it across to Innes with the glass of water. "This should help your stomach." He watched as Innes emptied the contents of the satchet. "Uh – do you…" Sherlock wasn't quite sure what to do next. "Do you want the television on or something?" Innes nodded, "Right, okay." Sherlock switched on the tv and brought the remote control over to Innes. "I'll just be over here alright? You can call out if you want anything or if you feel worse, okay?" Innes nodded obediently again. "Alright." Sherlock retreated back to his lab bench again, perching upon the edge of his stool and contenting himself with just watching Innes for a brief period. Innes had curled himself up on the sofa, his thin legs brought close to his chest – staring ahead of himself at the flickering picture on the screen. There was certainly _something _not right with him, he was much quieter and more vacant than usual; Sherlock would have to keep an eye on him… and if it was something psychological than perhaps John would be able to get it out of him when he got back tonight.

Turning his attention back to the experiment he had left when he had gone to pick Innes up, he wondered whether he should continue on with his experiment… Lestrade had been rather insistent that he needed a result today so that he could secure a necessary conviction. What was he going to do otherwise – sit and watch Innes all day until John got back? Well he was going to be doing that anyway, so he might as well do something productive at the same time…

"Father?" Innes' voice floated to the bench as Sherlock was laying out the strips of fabric that needed to be tested.

"Yes Innes?" Sherlock's head snapped up, he practically jumped off the stool and raced round to the sofa. "What is it? Are you feeling sick?" Innes shook his head.

"Is daddy coming back today?" He asked, Sherlock almost sighed in relief.

"Yes, he is." Sherlock answered, Innes was referring to John. At the age where Innes had begun to babble, John and Sherlock had made the decision that they needed to identify themselves with two independently different names so that Innes didn't get confused by calling them both 'dad'. So on that agreement John was dad or daddy and Sherlock was papa or father. "Yes, he'll be back in a couple of hours."

"Good." Innes said, his face was regaining a little bit more colour now – his cheeks were getting the pink blush that was usually across them.

"Why? Have you been worrying about him Innes?" Sherlock asked, leaning on the arm of the sofa and looking down at his son.

"No, not really." Innes answered, "It's not like there's anything to worry about. Statistically he's more likely to have an accident in a car than in a plane." Sherlock chuckled slightly, that sounded more like Innes – the one who had swallowed an encyclopaedia whole.

"That's right." Sherlock ruffled Innes' hair. "How is your stomach? Are you feeling better?"

"A little bit." Innes replied.

"Do you feel up to having something to eat?"

"No, thank you." Innes shook his head. "My tummy still hurts."

"Okay. If you feel hungry let me know and I'll get you something to eat." Sherlock told him.

"Thank you."

"You are very welcome." Sherlock stood up from the arm of the sofa. "Innes, you know you don't need to worry about dad, don't you?"

"I wouldn't be a very good son if I didn't care." Innes said straight. For a second Sherlock couldn't take in the full weight of what Innes had said.

"Innes, you are a good son whatever you do!" Sherlock exclaimed, turning back round from his bench and sitting down next to Innes. "You don't need to worry about us, that's our job! You not worry doesn't mean you don't care! You just have to be you and you'll be the best son your dad and I could ever wish for!"

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**A/N: As I always say - I'd love to hear what you think of this chapter/story so far! :)**


	3. Chapter 3

"Hello, Sherlock? Innes? I'm home!" John pulled his suitcase over the threshold of flat 221B and closed the door behind him. He sighed; it felt really nice to be home, especially as he now had a couple of days off work to spend doing whatever he wanted to do. "Hello?" He called again when he got no reaction for the first time, they surely couldn't be out – Innes had school in the morning. Just as John thought this, Sherlock appeared at the top of the staircase.

"John!" He was smiling as he ran down the stairs quietly to help with John's case. "How was the flight?"

"Boring." John answered, shrugging his jacket off and hanging it up on one of the hooks. "I tell you if I ever see the inside of Hamburg airport again, I might just implode." John shook his head, his flight had been delayed nearly four hours due to some kind of mechanical fault that needed to be fixed on the plane.

"I'll get that." Sherlock smiled as John had moved to pick up the case.

"Thank you." John smiled as Sherlock picked up the case.

"Are you hungry? I can order in a take away if you want something to eat."

"No, I'm alright. I might just get a cup of tea and I'll be fine." John answered. Sherlock carried the case up the stairs and put it down in the living room.

"I've missed you." Sherlock said, enveloping John in a hug and kissing him.

"I've missed you too." John replied once they broke apart. "Where's Innes?" He looked around as though he expected Innes to jump out from behind the sofa. "I thought he might have stayed up to see me get home."

"Ah, yeah… he's in bed." Sherlock answered, sticking his hands in his pockets. "I got a call from his school earlier on today, I had to go and pick him up because he had a sore stomach. He went to bed early, but I was hoping you'd maybe speak to him in the morning or something."

"With a sore stomach? He's not coming down with a bug or anything is he?" John's demeanour had instantly changed to that of a concerned parent. "Did you take his temperature or anything?"

"His temperature was fine, he hasn't vomited, he's not constipated, there are no signs that there's anything physically wrong." Sherlock informed John. "Do you want that cup of tea?"

"Yeah, that'd be great." John nodded, following Sherlock over to their kitchen. "So, if there's no sign of a bug or anything, what's making him feel unwell?"

"Well, I thought – but this is straying more into your territory – that he might be worrying about something." Sherlock answered, "I tried to talk to him about it, but I didn't get anything from him… I thought you would probably do a better job than me."

"What do you mean, like someone picking on him or something?" John asked, leaning against one of the kitchen counters as Sherlock put the kettle on.

"Well that's what I thought… I remembered what you had said about getting bullied at school, but I asked him about that and he said no." Sherlock answered, "But I don't know… I'm not very good at, you know, well…"

"Did he say _anything?_" John inquired as Sherlock poured boiling water into a mug to make tea for him.

"Not about school, no." Sherlock stirred milk into the tea and handed it across to John.

"If not about school, then what?" John had accepted the mug but he wasn't drinking out of it.

"About you and me…" Sherlock said quietly, moving away from John and sitting down on the sofa.

"What?" John sounded completely confused.

"He asked if you were coming back tonight, and then he said something like: 'if I didn't worry then I wouldn't be a very good son'." Sherlock wasn't looking at John as he said this, he was worried about meeting John's eye because he knew he should have done better in trying to help their son.

"He said what?" John continued, sitting down next to Sherlock.

"I told him that all he had to do was be him and that he never needed to worry about us, but… I don't know if he was actually listening to me." Sherlock shrugged.

"Jesus – our seven year old thinks that if he doesn't worry about us, then – we'll do.. what?" John put his head into his hand and rubbed his eyes. "This is all my fault."

"How is it your fault?" Sherlock asked, utterly bemused.

"He's too much like how I was when I was a kid." John sighed heavily.

"I… I don't understand…" Sherlock shook his head.

"I wear my heart on my sleeve! You have been telling me for the past ten years that I care too much, I let my emotions run me – well, you might actually be right on some counts." John explained, "When I was little I was terrified that my parents didn't think Harry and I were good enough, that we didn't care – I used to worry myself sick over them."

"You think Innes is the same?" Sherlock asked, placing his hand on John's knee to try and comfort him.

"Sounds like it, doesn't it?"

"But… but… you had reason to worry when you were younger… I mean, your parents were…" Sherlock trailed off, unsure how to be tactful.

"Dysfunctional to say the least." John continued for him. "But then… aren't we kind of?" John looked straight at Sherlock, his face was set as though this was costing him so much to say.

"Dysfunctional… John, how could we be anything less? But we both love Innes, we both care for him; I don't see how that could be a bad thing, I don't understand!" This was scaring Sherlock, the way John was talking about the two of them. "Are you suggesting that Innes would be better off if we weren't together?"

"No! No…" John shook his head fiercely. "I don't know what I mean… I just can't help but think that this is our fault."

"I don't think we should be blaming ourselves just yet John…" Sherlock tried to bring the conversation back to something less edgy. "Maybe, maybe it's nothing… I mean, maybe he was missing you cause you'd been away at work." Sherlock tried to sound convinced. "And maybe he has just got a bug or something."

"I don't know. I sure hope it's nothing more serious." John leant gently against Sherlock's shoulder. "I might chat with him in the morning; see if there is anything else bothering him."

"I think that's a good idea." Sherlock said, putting his arm behind John and pulling him into a hug. "I'm sure he'll be alright though, especially when he's got you."

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**A/N: As always I'd love to hear what you think of this chapter/story so far! I hope you're enjoying it!**


	4. Chapter 4

John was lying on his front, one of his arms draped across Sherlock's chest and his mouth slightly open against his pillow. He was snoring slightly, but apart from that there was no other noise in the entire flat. Sherlock had missed this – just being able to lie together, watching John as he slept peacefully. It was even more beautiful than usual because this was the first time in a week that John and Sherlock had been together. John's breathing was calming to Sherlock, the simple in and out creating a rhythm akin to the waves washing over the shore. It was like John was the calming presence, the controlling force that Sherlock often required to switch his mind off. He often wondered whether he was the same for John – whether he gave as much to John as John gave to him. As he lay, watching John in the darkness of the room, his mind replayed their conversation from earlier on… There was no way that John was responsible for how Innes felt, if anything, the fact that Innes' emotions were so developed yet so cared for was a testament to John and the depth of his emotional support for his son. Sherlock wasn't about to let John think that Innes being emotionally aware was a bad thing. He had lost count of how many times he had reiterated that John's emotions were his best asset – and how much he wished someone had taught him the value of emotions when he had been Innes' age, rather than advising that the best way to deal with everything was to sweep it under the carpet and wish for the best. If someone had told him then perhaps he wouldn't have been so damaged…

A small noise interrupted Sherlock's train of thought, the padding of feet in the hallway above Sherlock's bedroom. Innes must have woken up for some reason. Sherlock strained his hearing to try and listen, it was most likely that Innes had just woken up to go to the toilet, but after having to pick him up earlier, Sherlock was on the alert just in case.

Sure enough, there was a click that came, not from the bathroom, but from the airing cupboard. Sherlock lay listening for another few seconds, hearing Innes moving about gently up stairs. He lifted John's arm from off his chest and gently laid it back down on the mattress, extricating himself from the bed and moving as quietly as he could so as not to startle John. He crept out of his bedroom and up the small staircase to the landing of Innes' bedroom. Innes was in his pyjamas, in the dark, rummaging around inside of the airing cupboard looking for something.

"Innes?" Sherlock asked quietly, Innes hadn't heard Sherlock approaching up the stairs and in his fright, he jumped and dropped the sheets that he was holding. "What are you doing Innes?" Innes had spun around in surprise and was backing away before realising it was Sherlock; his face was pale and he was trembling slightly.

"I… uh… em," Innes spluttered, backing way even more. Sherlock bent down and scooped up the sheets that Innes had dropped. Sherlock looked down at the sheets and then back up at Innes.

"Did you have an accident?" Sherlock asked in a low voice. As dark as it was, Sherlock could see tears pooling in Innes' eyes as he nodded. "Hey – hey, it's okay Innes." Sherlock put his hand on top of Innes' head and ruffled his hair. "Come on, let's get you cleaned up." He grabbed Innes' hand and began to lead him towards the little bathroom opposite his bedroom. Sherlock flicked on the light switch and turned to Innes; he looked so small and frightened, pale and upset – Sherlock knelt down so that he was on Innes' level. "Is there something wrong Innes? Are you sure you're not worrying about something?" Innes shook his head slowly. "Absolutely positive?"

"Yeah…" Innes muttered.

"Okay, okay… I'll get you a fresh pair of pyjamas, you take your damp ones off and wait here." Sherlock left Innes in the bathroom, and went into his room – quietly he stripped Innes' bed of the wet sheets, replaced them with the dry ones and piled the dirty ones into a bundle in the hallway. "Here we go." Sherlock brought the clean pyjamas into him. "You change into these; I've changed the sheets on your bed for you."

"I'm sorry." Innes was standing perfectly still, holding onto the clean pair of pyjamas that Sherlock had brought through for him.

"Don't be sorry Innes, it's alright – everyone has accidents every now and then." Sherlock began to pull Innes' t-shirt over his head for him. "It used to happen to me too." Sherlock confided in Innes, unfolding the new pyjama top and handing it to Innes.

"Really?" Innes asked, his small voice almost trembling in disbelief.

"Yeah, really." Sherlock nodded, "And it's absolutely nothing to be upset or embarrassed about." Innes hopped on one leg to get the other in the leg of his clean pyjamas. "Okay?"

"Okay… Do we have to tell daddy about this?" Innes mumbled, looking down at the pile of wet clothes.

"We don't have to, if you don't want to. It can be our secret." Sherlock told him.

"I don't want him to know, please?" Innes mumbled.

"Okay, right… back to bed." Sherlock said, patting Innes on the back. "Come on, I'll put your sheets in the wash so that dad doesn't find out." Sherlock stood at Innes' door as Innes climbed back into bed. "Night Innes."

"Night father." Innes replied quietly. "Thank you."

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**A/N: As always, I'd love to know what you think about this chapter/story so far! :)**


	5. Chapter 5

"Come on Innes, we're going to be late if you keep dawdling." John was saying firmly to Innes, who had been clerting around with his spoon in his cereal bowl for the past five minutes deliberately trying to slow down.

"But daddy, my tummy still hurts!" Innes insisted, dropping his spoon into the bowl with a clatter.

"Innes, I've already taken your temperature and it's normal." John replied, sounding a little exasperated; this argument had been going on since half seven when they had woken Innes up. "Unless you're projectile vomiting, or both your legs are broken, you're going to school." Innes scowled at his bowl of cereal, crossing his arms in front of his chest. This was unusual for Innes, he had never protested in going to school – it made John more convinced that something was going on to make him not want to go. He sighed; "Go and get your school bag." Innes didn't argue, he just jumped down off his stool and proceeded noisily up the stairs. "I don't know what's going on with him…" John said to Sherlock, who had taken a definite back seat in this argument and was thinking deeply about it. "I spoke to him about school and he was really insistent that nothing is going on – no one picking on him, not a test that he's worried about, nothing!" Sherlock paused, considering telling John about last night – could he really keep something like that from John? Not if it was this important.

"Last night… I was awake while you were asleep." Sherlock began, his voice as low and quiet as he could in case Innes. "And I heard Innes moving about, so I went to see if everything was alright."

"Did he say anything?" John asked, suddenly very interested.

"No… but he had had an accident, wet the bed." Sherlock answered. "I promised him that I wouldn't say anything, that it'd be our secret, so don't let on that you know."

"He wet the bed?" John looked surprised.

"I found him trying to find clean sheets in the airing cupboard." Sherlock told him. "I cleaned him up and changed his bed, but he didn't say anything was bothering him – even when I expressly asked."

"I… I don't know, oh dear." John mumbled, placing the mug which he had been holding on to the kitchen counter.

"Look, it could be absolutely nothing John." Sherlock said, trying to convince John. "It could just be an accident as he said… but I don't think us pressing the issue will make him talk to us, he has to come to us if something's upsetting him."

"I… I guess you're right." John's shoulders had dropped and the worry was etched into the lines of his face. Innes was coming clattering back down the stairs, his school bag on his back, a frown firmly set on his face. "Come on Innes, let's go – or we'll be really late." John's voice had changed, but he sounded determined. "I'll not be too long, I'll just drop him off and come straight back." John mumbled, trying not to let Innes hear what he was saying. Despite the tension of the argument that had been occurring in the flat, Sherlock couldn't help but grin at John. With John back from his conference, and the case that he had been working on all wrapped up, then they had all the time in the world to do whatever they wanted. Innes was not happy about having to go to school; he clattered his whole way down the staircase as an objection and then slammed the front door behind him.

Sherlock sat down in his armchair, thinking about the incident last night – Innes had never wet the bed before, not even when they had been toilet training him. So something must be up for him to have an accident now.

Fifteen minutes passed with Sherlock not moving, just trying to think through logically the reasons which might have caused this sudden accident. The front door slammed and John appeared in the living room and collapsed heavily onto the sofa.

"I swear to god something's going on with that boy!" He sighed exasperated. "I practically had to drag him out of the car and into the school gates!"

"I've been trying to consider what could be going on, I mean – he's never wet the bed before, so I was trying to logic out what could have caused that." Sherlock said calmly. He was staring at John, who had his legs stretched out in front of him and his hands behind his head; and in that position a tiny strip of skin above John's belt was visible, it made Sherlock shiver.

"Was he upset?" John asked.

"A little bit, yeah." Sherlock nodded, "But after I had spoken to him he seemed happy enough to just go back to bed."

"What did you say to him?"

"The truth – that it's quite normal, accidents happen to everyone and… and they used to happen to me when I was little." Sherlock responded, he wasn't sure if he had ever told John that before.

"What – you? _You _used to wet the bed?" John asked, sounding surprised.

"When I was a little kid yeah…" He had flushed pink at this, "Well – most kids have an accident or two at some point, don't they?"

"Most, yeah. I just hadn't expected you to be one of them." John mumbled.

"Yeah, well, I was." Sherlock felt he had maybe been a little bit _too _defensive over that.

"He just won't say anything though." John repeated frustrated, clearly they were back to talking about Innes.

"But we can't force him into talking."

"If he just told us what was wrong then maybe we'd be able to help." John shook his head and dropped his arms down to rest by his side.

"If it's something really important, he will come and tell us eventually – we'll just have to wait until he's ready." John looked over at Sherlock, a small, and rather contemplative, smile on his face.

"I really missed you while I was away…" John admitted.

"I missed you too." Sherlock smiled.

"Come over here." John jerked his head at the space next to him. Sherlock didn't hesitate; he was out of his armchair and sat next to John as fast as he could move. "I love you."

"I love you too." Sherlock slipped his arm around behind John's head so it was resting on his shoulders.

"I've missed this…" John said, instantly snuggling in towards Sherlock, resting his head on Sherlock's shoulder and placing his hand on Sherlock's knee. "Just being close to you, being able to sit and feel your breathing." Sherlock smirked slightly. "I know you think I'm being soppy and sentimental-"

"Just a little bit."

"But I mean it, it does feel strange when we're not together. It's like something is missing, don't you think?"

"Alright Aerosmith." Sherlock chuckled slightly, John looked up at him. "I do get what you mean, yeah."

Then they were kissing; without either of them seemingly instigating, they were both wrapped around one another. This was something that had never changed – not in the seven years that they had been a couple. Not even when the monotony and the routine of daily life had ground them down, not the sleepless nights or the exhausted days, not the worries that came with raising a child, or anything had worn them down over the years, this had never changed. Kissing was still perfect oblivion to both of them. It still sent shivers racing up and down John's spine, and raised the hairs on the on the back of Sherlock's neck. It was one of the ultimate reminders of why they truly were two parts of a whole. Their kiss was soft, gentle – their expression of love put into action.

"Oh I've missed you so much," John whispered when they split, his hand was placed near Sherlock's shoulder – stroking, caressing.

"I know, I can tell." Sherlock replied, holding rather firmly onto John's arm. There was a small period – or it could have been many minutes, Sherlock could not tell – where they simply looked at one another, drinking in the sight of each other as though they had been parted for more than a week. Sherlock slowly ran his hand through John's sandy hair; it was the same kind of coarse but beautiful texture that he loved so much. And he kissed John again, soft but deeply. John's lips were soft, but the stubble around his lips felt nice, refreshing upon Sherlock's smooth skin. "Oh, you are wonderful…" He moaned; he could feel the smile on John's lips as he continued to kiss them. Then John did something that he knew would create a reaction, he bit Sherlock's bottom lip – and love: oxytocin and adrenaline were pumping through Sherlock's veins. The kiss suddenly deepened, became much more passionate and longing. Both of them moved, interlocking themselves in one another; John's hands in Sherlock's hair, Sherlock's holding onto John's waist.

"I can't do this, come on. Now." John had broken apart from Sherlock, much to Sherlock's resistance and was dragging Sherlock's hand to move from the sofa. Sherlock followed, knowing exactly what John meant. They could hardly have an embracer such as this and not expect it to escalate further. "Bed, now." John spoke the second that they were inside their bedroom; Sherlock obeyed, moving towards the bed and loosening the belt on his trousers. John almost flew at Sherlock: "Oh god, I can't wait… I can't believe it's only been eight days, it feels like a lifetime!" John was unbuttoning Sherlock's shirt with surprising haste, moving to kiss him again. Their lips met, their teeth clashed for a second and then their tongues found one another.

"You…" Sherlock started, but couldn't finish when – as John was pulling Sherlock's trousers off – his hand brushed Sherlock's erection. "Oh god, please don't tease me." Sherlock's voice was weak, pleading.

"I promise I won't."

Suddenly their moment was burst by one thing – the phone located on their bedside table rang.

"Don't get it." Sherlock said inquiringly, he didn't want to stop now – this was the highest of inconvenience.

"I really should Sherlock." John muttered, but he also was staring at Sherlock, not wanting to let the moment die. But when the phone continued to ring, he sighed and leaned over to grab it out of its cradle. "Dr. Watson?" Sherlock almost sagged back into the bed – why? Why now? Just when he and John were together for the first time, why did there have to be an interruption? "Right, okay. I'll be there shortly." Sherlock looked up at John as he replaced the phone; he hoped that "shortly" could be long enough for them to finish what they had started, but John's expression had changed. The moment was well and truly over.

"What is it?" Sherlock asked, failing to keep the frustrated annoyance out of his voice.

"Innes." John had stood up from the bed, and was sliding his feet into a pair of shoes underneath the radiator. "That was the school, I need to go and pick him up – he's running a temperature."

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**A/N: As always - I'd love to hear what you think about this chapter/story so far!**


	6. Chapter 6

"How is he?" Sherlock asked as John sat down next to him on the sofa. It was evening now, hours after John had had to go and pick Innes up from school. Most of Sherlock's annoyance about being interrupted had drained away over the hours; especially when he realised that Innes was actually unwell.

"He's still asleep." John answered. He had been slightly annoyed when the phone call had come earlier that morning, probably because it was interrupting him during a moment, and also because at the time he was convinced that Innes wasn't actually ill. This opinion changed when he arrived at the school; and he was slightly shivery – the signs of a fever. Once Innes had gotten home, John had insisted that he go to bed and try to rest, hoping that sleep would make him feel better – so Innes had been in bed, and asleep nearly all day.

"Are you going to take him to the doctors in the morning?" Sherlock asked, as John shifted on the sofa.

"I don't know, probably not…" John replied but he sounded unsure of himself. "It does just sound like he's got a virus… He said earlier on that he kept feeling like he was going to be sick, but then didn't need to be. I'll wait and see how he is in the morning, then he'll be off for the weekend anyway. I'll take him to the doctors on Monday if he's still not right."

"That sounds like a good plan." Sherlock agreed.

"Wait – isn't your mother meant to be taking him out on Saturday?" John suddenly remembered, his eyes widening.

"Oh yeah…" Sherlock nodded, "I'll phone her tomorrow and let her know that he's not well." There was a silence between them as Sherlock wondered whether his mother would insist on coming to visit Innes, even if it was at the flat for a little while.

"I'm glad it's not anything to do with school." John broke the silence eventually. "I don't know what I would do if it had been."

"We would have sorted it out." Sherlock said firmly.

"How?"

"What do you mean how?" Sherlock didn't understand what John meant.

"How would we have sorted it?" John expanded.

"Well that would depend on what it was…" Sherlock started. "If someone was picking on him at school then we would have to go to the school and confront them about that."

"You'd be better than me at that… I always get worried with situations like that." John muttered.

"That's why we work so well together, cause we're each good at what the other isn't." Sherlock commented, taking John's hand and giving it a squeeze.

"I always worry that at some point Innes will get picked on because of us." John admitted slowly.

"You mean because we're a couple?" Sherlock asked.

"Yeah." John nodded, looking down at his lap. "I mean, most kids will find something to pick on other kids for – whether it's being too smart, or having curly hair, or because they've got too dads…"

"Innes isn't like other kids though… that sort of thing doesn't bother him." Sherlock said scathingly. "He's tough."

"He got that from you." John smiled, that was definitely the truth – Innes was growing up with some of John and Sherlock's best qualities.

"You as well." Sherlock responded, he wouldn't have John putting himself down so – sometimes Sherlock felt like John placed too much importance, too much upon him. John had trained as a doctor, he had served in the army, he had been the anchor that Sherlock had needed, he had taken Innes on to raise as his own; if that didn't prove that he was intelligent, courageously brave and loving, then Sherlock didn't know what would…

John spent the whole night tossing and turning, Sherlock could feel him restlessly shifting about in the bed next to him. He tried pretending that he was asleep, consciously evening out his breathing so as to not make John feel suspicious. Finally, when Sherlock had the courage to check the time, it was nearly quarter to four, and John still hadn't fallen asleep.

"If you're really that worried about Innes, go and check on him." Sherlock spoke when he began to feel exasperated with John's constant movement and sighs, which was now preventing him from falling asleep.

"Holy shit, don't do that Sherlock!" Sherlock felt the bed physically shake as John jumped in surprise, startled by Sherlock speaking so abruptly. "At least give me some warning next time!" John rolled over and flicked the switch of the lamp on his bedside table; the yellow light flooded the room, bouncing off the ceiling and walls and filling the room with the dull illumination.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you." Sherlock apologised, rolling over onto his side so he could look directly at John. "I've just been listening to you tossing and turning all night… if you're really that worried about him, go and check on him."

"It's not that…" John said quietly, he was lying on his back staring up at the ceiling. "I just feel a bit guilty that I didn't believe Innes straight away… that he wasn't feeling well."

"You don't need to feel guilty John, it was an innocent mistake!" Sherlock refuted.

"But what if it had been something serious?" John wrung his hands in front of himself.

"Then we'd have known." Sherlock answered, "Stop beating yourself up about it!" John sighed, "Come here…" Sherlock pulled in John towards him. "Is something wrong?" Sherlock asked once he had managed to pull John towards him.

"Sometimes… I just wonder what Harry would think…" John said quietly, resting his head on Sherlock's chest.

"I think she'd be really proud of you and Innes, and really happy."

"You think so?"

"I know so." Sherlock nodded.

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**A/N: As always, I'd love to know what you think about this chapter/story so far! :)**


	7. Chapter 7

The entire weekend was peculiar… probably because Innes wasn't bounding about the flat asking a million and one questions in one breath; but also his presence in the flat was strange – the weekends that Sherlock's mother looked after him left John and Sherlock able to do whatever they wanted to… so both the fact that he was there, but not actively involved throughout the weekend was strange. Innes had spent most of the weekend in his bed, sleeping pretty much all day – John said that was definitely a sign that his body was fighting off something.

On Sunday evening Innes rose from his bed for a short time, wrapped tightly in his blue dressing gown he sat in one of the armchairs, still very pale and looking very small. He had only been able to stay up for around an hour, even then he had said his stomach still hurt and he felt dizzy. Sherlock wondered whether the latter was due to the fact that Innes had refused pretty much all food that they had given him over the weekend. After the hour Innes had fallen asleep in the armchair and Sherlock had picked him up and carried him back to his bed, tucking him in tightly.

"I'm going to take him to the doctors in the morning." John decided firmly, once Sherlock had returned from putting Innes to bed. "I just want to get him checked over, just in case."

"I think that would be wise." Sherlock agreed.

"I'll phone at 8, see if I can get him an emergency appointment." John was standing in the kitchen, leaning against one of the counters and looking up as though he could see through the ceilings up to Innes' room. John had calmed down slightly since Thursday night when he had panicked about not believing Innes was ill; Sherlock had managed to reassure John that Harry would have been happy about the way in which they were raising Innes. "I'll take him in the morning; see if I can get him something that might make him feel better." John was nodding; simultaneously loading plates into their dishwasher with a determined expression on his face. "He just doesn't look right." Sherlock just nodded in agreement, he didn't want to enter into this discussion about what might be wrong with him – they had spent hours going over this topic all weekend…

"Innes… Innes, wake up." John gently tapped Innes' shoulder; he had just phoned the doctors surgery he used to temp at and called in a favour to get Innes seen today. They had told him to come straight away and they could fit them in before surgery hours opened.

"Daddy?" Innes mumbled sleepily, he was stirring slightly, clearly not wanting to be woken up.

"Come on son, you need to get up, I've got a doctor's appointment for you." John was kneeling by the edge of the bed, Innes sat up groggily. "I've got you a t-shirt and trousers laid out, pop them on and we'll have to get going." He stood up and watched Innes as he swung his legs out of the bed. "How is your tummy feeling, does it still hurt?" Innes nodded. "Will you be okay getting dressed?" Innes nodded again, so John slipped out of the room to find Sherlock standing in the hallway.

"Is he up?"

"Yeah, he's just getting dressed." John answered. The concern on Sherlock's face was discernible, but they had been up most of the night…

"You don't need to worry John, I'm sure it's nothing." Sherlock tried to sound confident. "Do you want me to come with you?"

"No," John shook his head. "You don't need to do that."

"I know I don't need to, but I would like to." Sherlock responded, "If it makes you feel better then I'm coming."

"Okay, thank you." John nodded, just then Innes' door opened and Innes stood there, dressed.

"Daddy?"

"Right, come on, let's go. I said we'd be there shortly and they're doing me a favour so we can't keep them waiting." John started quickly, putting his hand on Innes' back so as to hurry them up.

"I'll put my shoes on; I'll meet you at the car."

Sherlock almost came flying out of the flat, his coat billowing out behind him and a rather sheepish grin on his face as he climbed into the car: "I couldn't find my keys," He muttered, "I had to rethink my last steps before I could find them."

"Right…" John said, starting the engine.

"Innes Watson?" It was Sarah, the Sarah that John had dated so many years ago, who called Innes' name. Sherlock guessed that it was her that John had managed to call in a favour from; both Sherlock and John got to their feet quickly, they followed through to Sarah's consultancy room. "Grab a seat." She said as John closed the door of the room. "So what can I do for you?"

"It's Innes." John started, sitting down beside Innes in front of her desk. "We had to pick him up from school before the weekend, he was complaining of a sore stomach and he did have a bit of a fever, but he hasn't seemed to get better over the weekend – I just wanted to get him checked over."

"Okay, right Innes – can you pull up your t-shirt for me?" Sarah directed her words to Innes now; he nodded and pulled the front of his t-shirt up to his chest. "Good, now, just use one finger and point to the bit that hurts the most." Innes paused for a second as though thinking and then pointed one finger about halfway down his abdomen. "Just here?" Sarah had come round from behind her desk and knelt down in front of Innes, she was pointing at the spot that Innes had indicated. "I'm just going to press it, you tell me if it hurts, okay?" Innes nodded, Sarah pressed his abdomen gently moving her hand around. "Is it always sore, or does it come and go?"

"Comes and goes." Innes said.

"I'm going to take your temperature, so I'm just going to pop this in your ear." Sarah had picked up her thermometer and placed it carefully inside Innes' ear. She retracted it when it beeped and looked, "Temperature's not too high, are you sore anywhere else Innes? Like when you go to the toilet?" Innes nodded again, "Is it when you pee?" A third nod. "Does it make you feel like you can't go, or you need to go all the time?"

"All the time." Innes replied, John was staring at Innes with his mouth slightly open.

"You didn't tell me this Innes!" John commented, looking up at Sarah.

"I'm pretty sure you can tell what this is John, I think it's a urinary tract infection, I'll give Innes some prescription antibiotics and it should be cleared up in a couple of days… if it's not, then come back." Sarah told John, typing into her computer and setting the printer off. "Here you go," She handed the prescription to John, "He should be as right as rain in no time…"

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**A/N: As always, I'd love to know what you think of this chapter/story so far! Thanks for everyone who has left comments, it's really keeping me inspired to keep on going! :)**


	8. Chapter 8

"I think he's well enough to go back to school now," Sherlock said to John, the two of them were sitting on the stools at the kitchen counters both with mugs in their hands. "I mean he said yesterday that his stomach didn't hurt anymore." It was early on Wednesday morning and John was in his work suit, his few days off had been consumed with Innes being ill and now he had to go back to work. "Don't you think?"

"Yeah, you're right." John agreed, Innes had recuperated since he began on the antibiotics he had been prescribed. Yesterday he had been almost back to his normal self, up and about and asking questions. "I'll go and wake him up; can you take him to school?"

"Of course." Sherlock nodded, as yet he didn't have a new case and in the time intervening he would be the one to drop off and pick Innes up at school.

"Great, thanks."

John opened Innes' door, Innes was still fast asleep curled with his duvet under his arm. John stood for a few minutes, just watching Innes sleeping, then he pulled back the curtains.

"Innes," He said, loud enough to stir Innes from his sleep. "Innes, come on – time to get up. School time." Innes was waking slowly as the light from the window streamed in and fell across his bed. "Come on sleepy, you've got to go back to school today. Time to get up and put your uniform on."

"Okay…" Innes replied, rubbing his eyes to get the sleep out of them.

"I'll get your breakfast ready for you." John said, reaching the door of Innes' bedroom. "See you downstairs in five." Innes swung his legs out of his bed and padded across his bedroom, he was quite happy to be going back to school – being holed up inside the flat was rather boring after a few days, especially as his tummy didn't hurt anymore.

"Good morning father." Innes greeted Sherlock, climbing up onto one of the kitchen stools about five minutes later, once he had dressed in his school uniform.

"Good morning Innes, are you feeling better today?" Sherlock asked him.

"Yes, much better." Innes replied, picking up his spoon and beginning to eat his cereal.

"That's good." Sherlock nodded.

"I have to head off; I'm going to be late otherwise." John sighed rather mournfully, picking up his briefcase. "You be good Innes, I'll see you later." He ruffled Innes' hair affectionately and kissed Sherlock before turning to the door. "Bye."

"Bye daddy." Innes answered, a spoonful of cereal hanging midway to his mouth.

"Are you looking forwards to going back to school Innes?" Sherlock asked once he had heard the front door closing.

"Yes of course! I hope we're still looking at Vikings today!" Innes replied, "Did you know that the Vikings didn't really have horns on their helmets?"

"Is that so?" Sherlock nodded, he was more use to this than the Innes that had been living with them over the weekend – it was a huge relief that he seemed to be back to normal.

"Yes, it's just a myth that has grown up around them."

"That's good! Come on, eat your breakfast and we'll get you to school in good time." Sherlock answered, "I'll write you a note for why you've been off."

The note definitely in Innes' back pack – they had triple checked so that he wouldn't get into trouble – Sherlock dropped Innes off at school. The weekend that Innes had had off seemed like ages to him, especially when he got inside the class and saw Danny, his best friend who sat next to him in class.

"It's been really boring without you here." Danny said to Innes as he dropped his schoolbag onto the desk and sat down next to him.

"Are we still looking at Vikings?" Innes asked as Danny put his pencil case into the tray underneath his desk.

"Yes, but we've got a maths test this morning, so Vikings are this afternoon." He answered shoving his bag underneath his chair. "You missed a video yesterday!"

"Was it the one that tells you Vikings didn't really have horns?" Innes asked.

"How did you know-"

"I've already seen it." Innes supplied. "What's the test about?"

"Everything so far I think." Danny sighed. "You'll be fine cause you've been off."

"I hope so."

As Danny intimated, as soon as the register was over the two classes split up into their sets so they could start the test they were taking. Innes was in the top set for maths, he didn't exactly enjoy the subject but he did appear to have some natural ability in it. They had an hour and a half to answer sixty questions – it was plenty time, especially when the first twelve questions consisted of addition, subtraction, multiplication and division only. What Innes was not enjoying was the silence – and that Jenny across the desk from him kept trying to read his answers upside down. Shielding them with one hand, Innes tried to concentrate; he kept having to pull his mind back from daydreams – why couldn't he stay focussed without his brain going all fuzzy? He couldn't seem to make his eyes focus in on the page and the black and white print on them – every time he tried he ended up staring blankly ahead of himself. The room around him felt like it was getting brighter and brighter – he had to cover away from the glare of sunlight coming in through the windows. His head was hurting, right behind his eyes; he covered his eyes with his hands – maybe a few seconds of darkness would sort his head out.

When he removed his hands from in front of his eyes and checked the big clock at the front of the room he nearly jumped – it was already ten to ten; nearly an hour had passed and he was still only on question thirteen! He didn't know what to do – even if his head didn't hurt, there was no way he would get through all of these questions in the time that he was meant to. His head still felt like it was full of fog that was stopping him from thinking properly – and to top that he suddenly needed to go to the toilet. Daddy had warned him about this, that the medicine might make him need to pee more, but right now he felt absolutely desperate! Innes thrust his hand in the air, his pencil still clutched in his fist. He knew that they weren't allowed to talk during tests, they weren't meant to go to the toilet in the middle of tests either – but if he didn't then he might burst. He kept his hand high in the air, waving it about slightly in an attempt to catch his teacher's attention. She didn't look up for a few minutes and Innes had to bite his lip to stop himself calling out. Finally – just as Innes thought he was going to have to stand up and make a run for it – she looked up. By this point Innes had attracted a few stares from the other kids in the class who were sitting watching the waving of his desperate hand; his teacher came out from behind her desk and knelt down beside Innes' chair.

"Miss, can I please go to the toilet?" Innes asked in a hushed whisper.

"Innes, this is a test… you can't-" She began to answer, but Innes cut over her.

"Please, Miss! I don't feel well!" He pleaded.

"Okay Innes, go, but you have to be quick." She agreed, and Innes shoved his chair back as fast as he could, almost abandoning one of the 'codes of the classroom' in came running out.

Halfway along the corridor, however, he came to an abrupt standstill, doubled over with a pain that had stabbed him in the abdomen. He stood for a few seconds, panting, hoping that the pain would go away as quickly as it had come. He had thrown out his hand, placing it onto the wall next to him in an effort to stop himself from falling over. Still taking deep breaths in he straightened up, the pain still present in his lower belly; he had to get to the toilet, not while he could still walk. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, this was scary and it hurt more than anything ever had – more than when he had broken his collarbone last year and more than his tummy had been aching the past few days. He was nearly at the bathroom now, he still really needed to pee – but he also felt like he might puke too.

His hands were trembling as he undid the zip on his school trousers, as he stood at the urinals in the boy's toilets. He closed his eyes for a second and leant his head against the wall, he felt really rubbish – he was trembling all over and the pain in his belly seemed to be radiating throughout the rest of his body. He would go and find the school nurse in a minute and tell her how he was feeling; right after he was done peeing. He could hear his own breathing shaking, and suddenly the pain was getting much worse; he looked down and the breath caught in his throat. He was only seven and despite not knowing _that _much, he definitely knew that his pee shouldn't be red, or have the consistency of blood. Before he could open his mouth to call out another spasm of pain gripped him, and his surroundings were swimming about in front of his eyes. Innes wanted to cry, he wanted to scream, but he could feel his legs trembling underneath him and his mouth glued shut as the black at the corners of his vision began to creep in and obscure all of his sight. His knees buckled underneath him and everything was suddenly black.

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**A/N: As always, I'd love to know what you think of this chapter/story so far! :)**


	9. Chapter 9

Innes was aware of being lifted and conveyed somewhere, he knew he was lying down – but he didn't know how or where. All he did know was the pain that was tearing through every inch of his body, like he was being ripped apart slowly. The only other thing he could think was that he desperately wanted his daddy and father; he wanted them right now.

He could hear talking and movement, but he couldn't open his eyes. He wanted to communicate how much pain he was in, but his eyelids felt glued shut and his whole body seemed to be strapped down – wherever he was lying the pain wasn't any better.

For a time he seemed to lose his ability to hear everything again and the next time his brain reawakened he could hear someone talking very loudly.

"Let me through, let me _through! _I want to see my _son!_" It was his father talking loudly as though in protest. Innes tried to open his eyes, but still the weight was too much – seconds later he felt his father's hand on his face, gently stroking his cheek; the touch was reassuring to him, but it didn't lessen the pain. It still hurt.

Sherlock's hands were trembling so much that he had struggled to button up his coat; he was pretty sure that he had broken every speed limit between his flat and the hospital after the call from the school had come. Sherlock had almost become paralysed with fear the second that Miss. Henderson had spoken: Sherlock could read people, he knew when something was wrong – purely by her voice alone. She herself seemed hysterical when she passed on the news that Innes had collapsed and they had called an ambulance to take him straight to hospital. Sherlock hadn't thought to ask whether they had also contacted John, he suspected that they would have already – he had slammed the phone down and began to run as quickly as he could.

He had made it to the hospital and then yelled at everyone in sight until he could find out where they were keeping Innes. He had never felt this much panic before, like the bottom of his stomach had completely dropped out of him. He wasn't used to this – he needed John here to help. Finally he managed to get some compliance, a young doctor who looked barely old enough to be qualified had manage to calm Sherlock down enough for him to make his speech coherent.

"Innes Watson, I'm looking for Innes Watson!" Sherlock insisted, "He was probably brought in about quarter of an hour ago; he collapsed at school and was brought in by ambulance."

"Innes Watson, okay – give me two seconds, I'll find out where he is for you." The doctor had nodded, leaning over a computer and typing quickly. "Right, he's in paediatrics, would you like me to take you there?"

"Please." Sherlock was already trying to move, but the doctor was slower than he was. He had to wait… Ignorant doctors – how the hell could they not realise that these people in here had family that cared for them, that wanted to find out how they were straight away? Why did they have to be so goddamn slow? Again along at the paediatric warn the doctors insisted on asking questions before showing Sherlock to where Innes was, in the end he got impatient – barging through a bunch of nurses and medical students to try and find his son.

Finally he spotted Innes through the glass panel of one of the resuscitation bays and forced his way through to him, yelling at people to let him pass. Innes was unconscious, lying on the hospital bed with an oxygen mask over his face. His skin was as white as the sheet he was laying on; he looked tiny against the pillow that his head was rested on. Sherlock grabbed Innes' hand and stroke his cheek with the side of his other hand; where was John? He needed John now.

A doctor had approached the side of Innes' bed: "Are you Innes' father?"

"What – uh – I'm one of his parents, his guardians." Sherlock answered, "Who are you? Have you called John yet?"

"I'm Dr. Wyneford; I'm just looking after Innes until we can get him moved up to a ward." The man said, "Who is John?"

"John – John Watson! Innes' dad!" Sherlock responded, "Hasn't anyone called him?"

"We left voicemail's on the emergency contact number we have down for Innes." Dr. Wyneford intimated and Sherlock threw his hand up in the air as though in exasperation.

"You didn't manage to get through to him?" Sherlock knew he was shouting, but he didn't care.

"Please sir, I need you to calm down or you'll have to be removed…" His eyes flashed warningly.

"Fine, fine, _fine_…" Sherlock muttered much quieter. "I'll – I'll go and phone him." Sherlock squeezed Innes' hand tightly and then swept out of the room; his hackles were raised with annoyance and with fear. He knew he wasn't supposed to use a mobile phone, but at this moment he couldn't care less… He seemed to have more luck than the doctors and the school had, John picked up the phone on the third ring.

"Sherlock, what is it? I'm kind of in a meeting-" John said the instant he picked up.

"John, don't you _ever _listen to your bloody voicemail?! Where the hell are you? Innes is in hospital! He collapsed at school – the school phoned you _and _the hospital has phoned you!" Sherlock couldn't stop this from pouring out of his mouth.

"Wha – what? I'm – I'm on my way Sherlock, I'll be there asap!" John's voice had cracked and sounded weak.

"You better be." But John had hung up already. And now Sherlock felt guilty for getting all up on John's back when clearly he hadn't had a clue what was going on… He shook his head, trying to clear it from the stupid panic that seemed to be clouding his judgement. He needed to go back to Innes. God, sometimes he hated this whole 'being a parent' thing – especially in situations like this where he had no instinct to guide him into doing what was right.

"We're going to take Innes up to do a couple of tests just now, then transferring him to a ward that he can stay in for the time being." Dr. Wyneford told Sherlock about ten minutes after he had made the phone call to John. "Do you want us to show you up to the ward he's going to be taken to after?"

"Uuh - no, thanks… I think I'll go and wait for John, then we can go up together." Sherlock replied somewhat numbly, watching a porter unfasten the brakes of the bed that Innes was lying on.

Sherlock seemed to be walking in a half daze towards the entrance of the hospital, hoping that he would maybe bump into John… and hoping that John would be able to make some sense of all of this. He had hardly made it to the entrance when he saw John slamming the door of a taxi and running towards the entrance; he looked slightly dishevelled, his briefcase clutched in his hand.

"John." Sherlock called, managing to catch John's attention; it worked and he rushed over.

"Sherlock! What the hell is going on?" John asked hurriedly, "I'm sorry, I hadn't checked my phone – I – what's happening with Innes?"

"They've taken him for some tests…" Sherlock answered, "The school said they found him unconscious… and that it looked like he had been passing blood in his urine."

"Oh god!" John ran his free hand through his hair, "Oh god Sherlock! Are you alright?"

"I – yes, of course." Sherlock lied; despite having been together for seven years, John was still unable to tell when Sherlock was lying – so he took him at face value.

"Can we see him?" John asked, beginning to move into the entrance.

"They said they were going to be taking him to a ward after the tests… we should go there." Something had closed off inside Sherlock, like a wall or a barrier that was holding back some of the fear that he was feeling and it worked – a kind of detached calm had settled on him.

"Oh god Sherlock!" John repeated somewhat absently. Sherlock led John back through to where he had last seen Innes, fortunately bumping into the doctor who had last been treating Innes.

"Oh! Hello – could you tell us where to go? I know Innes has just been taken for tests…" Sherlock said, stopping him.

"Ah yes, I'll show you to the ward that he'll be taken to when the tests are complete." He nodded, they followed him along the corridor and up a set of stairs into a new corridor which had several bay area's off it. He stopped at the desk for a moment, asking the nurse there where Innes would be brought to – and then led Sherlock and John to a one room bay off the end of the corridor. "He'll be brought here when the tests are finished, they shouldn't be too much longer." He explained, leaving John and Sherlock in the room. John dropped into the chair beside the bed, putting his briefcase down next to it and put his head in his hands – his face was looking decidedly pale.

"Are you alright John?" Sherlock asked him as he continued to twitch.

"Yeah – I… Have you seen him?" John asked back.

"Only briefly, yes." Sherlock nodded. "He was still unconscious when I arrived, that's just before they took him away for tests."

"Oh god Sherlock, I feel sick." John said, rubbing his hands over his face.

"It's alright John." Sherlock's attempt at reassurance was futile.

"Is it?" John snorted in reply. "Is it really? We sent him back to school!"

"Well we wouldn't have if we thought he was still ill John." Sherlock refuted. "We haven't done anything wrong. We got him checked out by a doctor and everything, Innes said he was feeling better – what else could we have gone on?"

"I know… I don't know." John sounded confused, "I just want to know what's going on."

"Both of us do." Sherlock answered.

Shortly after, the bed that Innes was on was wheeled back into the room; John jumped to his feet and instantly began barraging the accompanying doctor with questions:

"What's going on? What's wrong with him? Why is he still unconscious?" The doctor was different from the one down the stairs; she held her hand up to stop the flow of questions.

"I'm Doctor Connors, I'm going to be treating Innes." She started, "We don't know anything at the moment, but we've sent off tests to establish what the problem is. I just have a few questions to ask you. Are you Innes' father?"

"Uuh, I'm his guardian, but I'm not his blood father." John answered. "Both of us are Innes' parents."

"Is there anything we should know about Innes' medical record? Is he allergic to anything? Is he on any medication?" She asked.

"I – uh-" John's nerves, which were normally as tough as steel seemed to have cracked under the pressure.

"He's not allergic to anything as far as we're aware of." Sherlock answered, sensing that John wasn't going to be able to answer coherently. "But he is on a course of amoxicillin at the moment for a urinary tract infection."

"When did he start them?"

"Just on Monday – he was sent home from school last week complaining of a stomach ache, we took him to the doctors on Monday and it seems like that was the most probable thing that fit his symptoms." Sherlock told her – he was looking down at Innes, who seemed to have relaxed his position a bit, perhaps he was asleep now.

"So he's only been on them for a few days, right…" She was noting all this down quickly. "Thank you very much for answering that for me, I'll just see if I can…" She had made a movement indicating that she was about to leave and John had finally found his voice:

"Wait – but what's wrong with him?"

"Mr. Watson-"

"Doctor." He corrected and she blinked.

"Dr. Watson, we have to wait for the results to come back. Until then we can only monitor Innes' situation." She forced herself to speak calmly, Sherlock could tell.

"So you don't know?" It was more accusatory than John normally sounded.

"Not yet, no."

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**A/N: ****I'm apologising for so many cliffhangers... but it feels right when I'm writing! Thanks for everyone who has commented so far - it's really encouraging me to keep going! :)**

**As always, I'd love to know what you think about this chapter/story so far! :)**


	10. Chapter 10

Their usual positions were inverted – Sherlock had sat down in one of the chairs next to Innes' bed and was watching him closely, while John paced relentlessly around the room. The sky outside of the window was beginning to show some of the murky shades of early evening – neither of the men had eaten or drunk anything since they had arrived. John had been building himself up into a rage over the past hour; so far they hadn't been told anything – and that infuriated him. Except from the nurses coming in to check Innes' status, no one had been in to explain what was going on. They still had no idea what was wrong with Innes, and that really scared John.

"John – please sit down or something." Sherlock requested, as the sound of John's feet against the linoleum was beginning to give him a headache.

"I can't just _sit down _Sherlock! We've been here hours and we _still _don't know what's going on! This – just – urgh!" John vented in frustration; he could feel the anger pounding through him like the blood in his veins, and he couldn't stop himself from feeling angry with Sherlock too. How could Sherlock just be sitting there?! So calmly and collected, looking as though he was pondering one of his least fathoming cases… He looked like he didn't care, and that enraged John even further! It was typical Sherlock! He always seemed to be so cool and distant, but when it came to something like Innes that wasn't preferable. He wanted Sherlock to be as angry, that no one could tell them what was going on, as he was.

"Alright…" Sherlock muttered, and John seethed even more.

"How can you just sit there?" John growled angrily. "He might not be your flesh and blood, but you've been there more than most! How aren't you angry at this? No, you just sit there like you don't have a care in the word! Innes is your son too!" This outburst did rile Sherlock, mostly because John seemed to think that Sherlock's outer appearance meant that he didn't care about Innes. He was just as tense as John, just as annoyed that they hadn't been informed, just as upset that there was something wrong with Innes… John should know by now that public displays of worry and concern were not the way that Sherlock acted, or dealt with things, but sometimes seven years with someone can see them…

"I'm going to get some air." Sherlock said in a monotone, standing up abruptly from his chair.

"Right, you do that! And maybe try and find some kind of a conscience while you're out there!" John snapped fiercely. Sherlock was at the door when he stopped, unable to bite back any more.

"Has it even occurred to you," Sherlock was trying to control his voice, but it was shaking with rage. "That us fighting won't help Innes any more? That maybe he can hear us? And right now he needs us to be together, for him? Rather than tearing shreds out of each other?" He didn't wait to hear John's reply, he just swept out of the room. His feet pounded the ground without him consciously controlling them, he was walking to get rid of his feelings, but it wasn't working so far – he was feeling more tense and taught than he had while in the room.

The cool air hit Sherlock in the face and he took a breath in. He didn't need this right now, and neither did Innes – John should see that! He stood against one of the walls slightly along from the entrance, on the opposite side of a group of patients and visitors who were smoking. He tapped the tip of his foot against the ground, as though hoping to transfer emotions out through the leather and sole of his shoe and into the ground underneath him. This was impossible.

According to John he needed to find a conscience; Sherlock knew that those words had been spoken in anger and that John hadn't meant what he had said, but it still niggled at him. How could John think that he didn't care? Not even a little bit?! He had been there all of Innes' life; he had been the comforter; he had tried to be compassionate, even when it went against his very nature, for both John and Innes. He had tried harder for these two people than for anyone else in his life. Mycroft had used to say to him when they were younger that caring was not an advantage – and it was times like these that Sherlock agreed with him. If caring meant that John accused him of being cold and distant, then he didn't want this… He'd rather not care at all, then he wouldn't be subject to this kind of suffering. But he _did _care… and he couldn't switch _that _off easily.

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**A/N: As always, I'd love to know what you think of this chapter/story so far! :)**


	11. Chapter 11

Sherlock returned to Innes' room roughly half an hour later. He had given himself enough time to calm down, hoping that it would be enough time for John as well – he also found the hospital's coffee shop and bought a cup of coffee for himself and tea for John. Maybe a gift would placate John's mood. He stood just outside the door of Innes' room for a few seconds looking in on the scene; Innes was still unconscious, lying completely motionless on his bed, and John had stopped his pacing and finally taken a seat. Sherlock took a deep breath and cleared his throat, stepping into the room:

"I come bearing gifts." He offered out his hand with the cup of tea in it to John, who accepted it with a weak smile. "Sorry." Sherlock added, although he wasn't altogether sure whether he had any need to apologise.

"Don't be stupid." John shook his head instantly. "I'm the one who blew my top, you shouldn't be apologising – I should."

"Let's not argue again, it's really not what any of us need at the moment." Sherlock said, sitting down in the seat beside John's and stretching out his free hand to take his partners.

"You're right… I know you're right." John nodded, "I just can't help but feel annoyed that we don't know anything – that we don't know what's wrong."

"Don't be feeling guilty now John." Sherlock warned sternly. "There is nothing either of us could have – unless we were psychic – about what was going to happen to Innes." John stared at his son in silence for several minutes, and when he next spoke his voice was gravelly, as though it was about to crack.

"What if something is really wrong with him?" It was barely louder than a whisper. "Just the length of time that he's been unconscious for shows that something's really not right…"

"Firstly we need to wait until we know what's wrong – and then we help him through it." Sherlock replied, assured. "Innes is tough, and whatever is wrong, we can help him fight it." John shifted nervously in his chair, but Sherlock squeezed his hand in reassurance and felt John squeeze back.

"Yeah." John sipped at the tea that Sherlock had brought for him. A huge, crushing weight had settled on him when Sherlock had told him over the phone that Innes was in the hospital, he had hoped that seeing Innes might relieve some of that pressure – but on the contrary it had compounded it. The suspense of them not knowing really what was going on drew John's insides taught with fear. His parental instincts were at war with his instincts as a physician – he knew that tests took time, he knew that demanding answers wasn't going to make them come any quicker, but he couldn't stop himself from wanting to know right _now._

Innes' small chest was rising and falling as he breathed, the machines on either side of the bed monitoring his on going condition. His cheeks were flushed pink with the fever that he was still suffering from, despite the IV drip pumping saline into him to rehydrate him. Whatever it was that was wrong, it was certainly giving Innes' body a hard time.

The two of them sat in silence for a while, both just watching Innes – their minds working overtime about what might be going on with their son. Just as John finished the cup of tea that Sherlock had brought him and was throwing it into the small waste paper bin in the room, his attention was drawn by a small flicker in the corner of his eye. Innes had twitched slightly, his breathing was a bit more erratic than it had been before, he was stirring as though on the edge of consciousness. In one swift movement John had bounded to the edge of the bed and placed his hand on top of Innes':

"Innes? Innes, can you hear me?" John asked rather frantically. "It's dad, I'm right here, it's okay." Innes hadn't awoken yet, for a few seconds it seemed that he had lapsed back into unconscious, but then his eyelids began to flicker. It looked like it was taking a huge effort for him to try and bring himself round.

"Papa?" Innes croaked, his throat very dry and crackly; this shocked Sherlock a little bit – generally Innes called out for John before him, but not this time.

"I'm here Innes, I'm right here – and so is daddy." Sherlock told Innes; Innes finally managed to wrench his eyelids apart, but the hazel irises which peered through the slits were unusually foggy and glazed.

"Where…" Innes coughed rather feebly, trying to clear his throat. "Where am I?"

"You're in the hospital; you passed out at school." Sherlock told him, he was still sitting back – he wasn't sure if Innes would be able to cope with being so crowded by the two of them.

"How are you feeling Innes?" John asked, laying his hand on Innes' forehead – involuntarily submitting to his parental instincts to check Innes' temperature.

"It hurts…" Innes struggled to speak; his face was screwed into a configuration which was evident of pain.

"Where does it hurt?" John asked him, he was perching himself on the side of Innes' bed so he could view all of his son.

"Everywhere." Innes whispered, he seemed to be trying to curl himself up; pulling his knees up towards his chest.

"Sherlock, can you find someone?" John asked of him. Sherlock didn't argue – after all John was the medical doctor, he knew best about this. Sherlock reluctantly left the room with John still perched on the edge of Innes' bed. He wandered along the corridor, looking for a doctor or nurse or anyone who might be able to help; he came upon a small desk with a nurse sitting behind it.

"Can I help you?" The nurse asked when he noticed that Sherlock was wandering along the corridor rather uncertainly.

"I expect so," Sherlock answered. "I'm Innes Watson's guardian – he's just woken up and he's complaining of being in real pain, I was hoping someone could come and check on him."

"Of course, I'll page one of the doctors to come along and check on him," He nodded.

"Thank you." Sherlock paused for a second, before returning back to the room.

Innes had pushed himself up into a sitting position, John was sitting on the bed on the left hand side behind Innes; making himself a support for his son to lean back on if he wanted to.

"Someone should be coming along in a moment." Sherlock told John, who nodded but then turned his attention straight back to Innes. Since waking up, Innes' face had flushed a deeper shade of pink and sweat was beading across his forehead. John could feel Innes trembling, he was trying to wrap his arms around his knees in an attempt to pull them closer in towards his chest – maybe the pain was lessened when he increased pressure on certain parts of his body. Dr. Connors entered into the room with a smile on her face, and the nurse who had been sat at the desk.

"Hello Innes, I'm Doctor Connors, I'm going to be your doctor at the moment – so let's see if we can fix you up!" She was using that super cheerful, paediatrician's voice that nauseated John – he had spent most of his working life looking after soldiers, so this kind of gearing down got on his nerves. It didn't seem to reassure Innes either, who was staring blankly at her, as though he was struggling to bring her into focus.

"Right Innes, can you tell me where it hurts most?" It looked for a second like she was about to ask John to move from where he was propping Innes upright, but the glare John was giving her possibly made her recalculate that decision.

"My tummy." Innes forced out his words.

"Okay, see if you lean back for a moment sweetie – lean against your dad and point to the place that is the worst." She gently pulled back the covers from Innes, revealing the hospital gown he was wearing and the unpleasant fact that he had been catheterized.

"Here." Innes placed the palm of his hand on the lower left side of his abdomen. He was leaning back against John's shoulder and John could feel the heat irradiating from him. Dr. Connors had leant forwards and was gently pressing the area that Innes had indicated was the worst and Innes instantly retracted, making a hissing noise between his teeth.

"Hmmm." Dr. Connors was frowning slightly. "If it was his other side then I'd be quite sure that it was his appendix…" She muttered; John had to control himself from rolling his eyes – clearly it _wasn't _on Innes' other side, so it was stupid even to suggest this. "I think we're going to have to hang off a little more and wait until we get the test results back, but until then I'll give Innes a dose of morphine to take away the pain."

"Fine." John agreed impatiently. Sherlock watched her ordering the nurse to get the required dose of painkillers, then she turned back to them.

"I'm going to try and chase up Innes' test results, otherwise it will be Dr. Lessing who brings you any information after 7 o'clock." The nurse had gone to get the painkillers for Innes and she was scribbling on the charts which had been attached to the end of Innes' bed, writing down what she had prescribed for him before leaving. The nurse reappeared and filled a syringe with morphine to give to Innes.

"Alright Innes, I'm just going to give you this medicine and it will make you feel lots better really quickly." He explained, bending down beside Innes' bed. "Can you hold out your arm for me?" Innes shook his head quickly, looking frightened. "It's okay, it won't hurt, I promise…" Innes stretched out his arm and the nurse was able to insert the syringe into the cannula that had already been inserted into his elbow. "There we go…" The nurse smiled after injecting all of the clear liquid out of the syringe. Before leaving the room he addressed John and Sherlock: "Give us a yell if you guys need anything, or you want to ask anything."

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**A/N: As always, I'd love to know what you think of this chapter/story so far!**


	12. Chapter 12

John had propped up the pillows that Innes had been lying on so he could sit upright, as this position appeared to be the most comfortable for Innes at this time. He pulled his chair close to the edge and had been gripping his son's hand and talking to him in a low comforting voice ever since the nurse had left. Every so often he threw a glance to the clock that was on the wall, Sherlock knew that John was checking the time and wondering if Dr. Connors would be back with any information before it was 7 o'clock and they would have to deal with yet another doctor on the night shift. Innes was resting back against the pillows that John had positioned for him, and gradually he was beginning to rest his legs further and further down – this at least showed that the morphine was beginning to have an effect. In the time that passed Innes was remarkably quiet, even with John muttering a constant stream of reassurances and asking him questions. It occurred to Sherlock that this was the first time he had seen Innes looking really ill – his face coloured, his chest resting and falling with the laboured force of him breathing, the sheen of sweat that was covering his face and the glazed and unfocussed expression on his face. It wasn't long before exhaustion seemed to set in on Innes again; his eyelids were drooping and he was leaning much more heavily into his pillows. Very quickly he fell back asleep and his knees dropped down so his legs were stretched out in front of him again. Carefully, so as not to disturb Innes, John moved back so he was sitting in line with Sherlock.

"What's taking them so long?" He murmured in frustration.

"I don't know John, I'm sure she'll be back soon…" Sherlock answered, but he wasn't sure how many times he could repeat this comfort – especially as it was sounding less and less convincing each time he said it. Innes' sleep didn't appear to be very restful, as he was twitching ever so slightly in his sleep and his breathing was a little erratic, but John didn't appear to be concerned about this.

After twenty five minutes John sighed loudly, he had hoped that after nearly nine hours that they would be some way to knowing, even at the least, why Innes had passed out at school and what was causing him to pee blood… The different reason that could cause that were running through John's head, and none of the reasons that he could think of were good – or could be cleared up easily…

"I think I'm going to get something to eat Sherlock," John spoke after a little while of silence. "I'm getting a bit of a headache… do you want anything?"

"I'd love a cup of coffee." Sherlock replied, John nodded getting up from his chair.

"I'll just grab a sandwich and be back up." John said as he headed towards the door.

"Take your time, he's asleep now – it's okay." Sherlock smiled at his partner. The room grew very silent once John had gone down to find some food; Sherlock could perceive that John was feeling very tense and taught, and that he was struggling to cope with the feelings that were bubbling up inside him. Sherlock had allowed his mind to wander for a while before he realised that Innes had opened his eyes again.

"Innes?" Sherlock edged himself forwards on his chair so he was sitting in Innes' direct eye line. "Are you alright?" Innes' eyes seemed to have brightened slightly, Sherlock hoped this was the morphine acting upon the reason that Innes was ill; he nodded very briefly.

"Papa… is daddy alright?" Innes asked in a very small voice.

"Of course he is Innes! He's just worried about you – we both are." Sherlock replied, leaning forwards so he could grab hold of Innes' hand. "So you don't worry about either of us, you focus on yourself and getting better!"

"I'll get better, don't worry." Innes spoke so confidently that the protective wall around Sherlock's emotions nearly gave way.

"That's right." Sherlock nodded, managing with a great effort to reseal the protection around his feelings.

"Innes?" John had reappeared at the door with a paper cup in either hand and a small brown paper bag slung over his wrist which must contain whatever he had picked to eat. "I thought you were asleep son."

"I can't sleep." He looked down at his lap, he had pushed himself back up so he was sitting upright.

"Are you still in pain?" John asked him, handing Sherlock the cup and perching down on the edge of his seat.

"Not really." Innes mumbled a reply. "It doesn't hurt so much now."

"Good! Do you want me to get you a magazine or a book to read?" John asked him and he shook his head; John had pulled a sandwich from inside the brown paper bag and unwrapped it. He offered one of the sandwiches to Sherlock, who waver his hand in refusal. Sherlock wasn't sure if John had noticed because he was eating, but Innes had made a very small and abrupt jerking movement. Sherlock studied his son's face and his unconscious brain began working much quicker:

"John?" He spoke very quietly, but Innes didn't appear to hear him. "John…" Sherlock tapped John's knee very lightly and he looked up at Sherlock with his mouth still full of sandwich. "Can you put your sandwich away for a bit?" He asked, John raised his eyebrows as if questioning this odd request, but Sherlock jerked his head towards Innes. "I don't know what you think, but I'm pretty certain our son is feeling sick…" Sherlock's observation definitely had weight behind it; all of the colour had drained out of Innes' face and left it a pale milkfish white colour, he looked as though he was sweating profusely and Sherlock could see his arms trembling.

"Innes?" John had his sandwich back inside the wrapper and the paper bag it had come in. "Are you feeling sick?" Innes' eyes had grown very wide; he nodded very shortly, fixing the stare of his eyes on John. Sherlock moved off his chair and took up the same position that John had sat in while the nurse had injected Innes with morphine; he perched behind Innes, so that his son could lean back on him if he needed to. John had also leapt to his feet and was peering into Innes' face, taking account of all of the symptoms that Sherlock had noticed. "Do you think you are going to be sick?" Innes shrugged his shoulders, but behind his back Sherlock was nodding to John. Sherlock could see all of the signs and he didn't want John to be lulled into a false sense of security.

"Can you find a bowl or something John?" Sherlock said, and John began opening and closing the doors of the cupboards on the wall. "Quickly!" Sherlock increased the urgency of the plea when he noticed that Innes was swallowing much more rapidly and involuntarily. John was successful in finding a stack of cardboard bowls, pulling them out of the cupboard and handing one to Sherlock to hold. Sherlock was thankful of John's timing because as John passed it across to Sherlock, Innes was trying to stop himself from gagging. "It's alright Innes…" With his free hand, Sherlock carefully rubbed Innes' back, trying to reassure him. Innes was taking very shallow breaths and the frightened look on his face had doubled.

"Try and take some deep breaths," John was telling him, Sherlock knew exactly what John was doing, but he didn't interrupt. Innes shook his head fiercely, but it seemed that what he was trying to do wasn't going to work any longer. Very abruptly his whole body jerked forwards; Sherlock reactively brought the cardboard bowl up close to Innes' face just in time as Innes began to vomit. Sherlock rubbed his back more now, and he could feel the air being dragged into Innes' lungs and every muscle spasming and convulsing as he continued to be sick.

"I'm going to go and find a doctor." John told Sherlock, who nodded in agreement. Innes was now coughing, clearing his airways, a few tendrils of spit hanging from his mouth; Sherlock pulled a tissue which was from a box on the table next to the bed.

"It's alright Innes, you're okay – I've got you." Sherlock was telling Innes lowly, he wiped Innes' mouth slightly haphazardly and felt Innes leaning back and resting his head near Sherlock's shoulder. There were tears streaming from his eyes, an involuntary reaction that sent sympathetic pains racing through Sherlock; Innes was now trembling more than ever, but he seemed to be more upset about being sick than anything else. "Are you feeling any better now?" Sherlock asked; Innes shook his head, still breathing rather shallowly and shaking from head to foot.

"I want it to stop, papa…" Innes whispered, his voice was rough.

"I'm sorry Innes; you just have to let it stop." Sherlock replied sadly, Innes let out a small moan; he wished that he could do something to help his son, but he couldn't really. Innes was beginning to gag again, Sherlock had grabbed a new bowl from where John had left them and held it in front of Innes.

"I don't… I… please… no…" Innes was gasping between breaths, but he couldn't prevent his body from overpowering his mind. He retched and began to throw up once again, but Sherlock had realised the issue as to why Innes was struggling so much – he hadn't eaten or drunk anything in hours; there was nothing in his stomach for him to vomit up… He didn't even have water or anything to give to Innes – all he could do was rub Innes' back and reassure him that it would be over soon.

John practically dragged Dr. Connors into Innes' room, by the look on her face he hadn't accepted no for an answer and had brought her along whether she wanted to or not; but when she was in the room the expression on her face altered rapidly as she saw Sherlock propping Innes up as he was retching and heaving. Sherlock knew that John was talking to her, probably more harshly than she deserved, but at this moment he was too busy focussing on Innes, and trying to calm him down. Innes appeared to be sagging from the effort that was being demanded from his body, he was too exhausted to support himself.

"Lean back onto me Innes, I've got, lean." Sherlock told Innes reassuringly, putting a hand on Innes shoulder and pulling him back. Innes was still shaking all over, his breathing was still erratic, but he no longer seemed to be struggling against vomiting. Before Sherlock could settle Innes enough to ask John what was going on, Dr. Connors had already left. "John? What's going on?" Sherlock asked over Innes' head.

"She thinks that this might just be a reaction to the morphine, that it should stop quickly." John answered slightly breathlessly; he was watching Innes with great concern on his features. "She was going to pick up the lab results when I found her, so she's gone to collect them."

"How is he?" Sherlock mouthed to John, jerking his head in Innes' direction, not wanting to disturb him as his breathing was calming down.

"Falling asleep." John mouthed back and Sherlock nodded in gratitude. Sherlock was waiting until Innes had completely fallen asleep before he could move, not wishing to disturb him more. John sat back down in the chair he had been occupying previously and watched Sherlock and Innes, as Innes' breathing evened out slowly and he fell back asleep.

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**A/N: As always, I'd love to know what you think of this chapter/story so far! :)**


	13. Chapter 13

John felt so helpless… and stupid, like he was being a bad parent. The pressure and tension that he had been under all day had begun to really take a grip of him. He could not describe the way he was feeling; only that it was comparable to having the weight of the world on his shoulders and his insides tied into a knot. He had already snapped unnecessarily at Sherlock and succeeded in pissing him off, when all he had been trying to do was reassure him… He had felt doubly awful when Sherlock had brought John back a cup of tea in order to placate him. He was enraged with the hospital for being so slow with the test results, he was annoyed with himself for the way he had been treating Sherlock, he was terrified about what actually might be wrong with Innes…

In an attempt to get a brief moment in which he could re-evaluate his position and sort out where his head was at, he waited until Innes had fallen back asleep and then he decided that he was going to get something to eat. Maybe that's all he would need, a bit of a pick me up on the blood sugar front and then he would be able to think about things much more clearly. He wandered through the hospital corridors and down a stairwell, following the signs for the entrance of the hospital, as generally that was where any coffee shops and newsagent shops would be. This was a new hospital for him, if he had had the choice he would have asked for Innes to be taken to St. Bartholomew's, because there at least he would know most of the staff that would be looking after Innes – he would have been able to trust them not to bullshit him. The sky that John could see out of the windows in the corridors was a sort of dull unclear shade somewhere between grey and blue; evening was rolling in. It was this kind of time that hospitals generally became rather quiet – it was just before the beginning of general visiting times, but it was also the normal time for shift swap of the shift working hospital staff. This meant that as John wandered through he was practically alone.

At the revolving doors at the entrance John paused for a few moments, allowing the brief bursts of cold air to reawaken his head. He bought himself a sandwich, and got two cups of very strong coffee for himself and Sherlock. When he arrived back at Innes' room, Innes had woken up – but John didn't notice the rather delicate shade of green that Innes had gone until Sherlock pointed it out to him. He was correct in doing so too, because he barely had the time to find a receptacle before Innes was being sick. Sherlock was propping him up, holding the bowl in front of his son's face and trying to comfort him. John's chest felt remarkably tight, he couldn't just stand and watch while his son struggled so much. He couldn't, he just couldn't cope – he felt like he might physically break; so he said something about finding a doctor and practically ran out of the room.

"Dr. Watson, I'm just about to go to the lab now-" Dr. Connors had begun as John approached her in the corridor.

"No, no…. it's not that…." John shook his head fiercely, "Innes has started vomiting, can you come and check him? I… I don't trust myself to do it." She looked like she wanted to refuse, but she tagged along behind John. Sherlock was still holding Innes upright, but they could see the young boy trembling.

"He's just been given morphine… you know that vomiting is one of the reactions to it, it should pass quickly." She told John.

"But… how do you know it's down to the drugs?" John questioned instantly.

"I don't… but he wasn't vomiting before, and the most recent thing we've done is give him medication." She explained calmly.

"Okay." John nodded, some of her calmness sinking in to him.

"I'm going to go and pick up the lab results for him now, so I should be back shortly."

Sherlock was still sitting behind Innes, as Innes seemed to have relaxed and was falling asleep against his father. He didn't want to wake Innes by moving, and John sat and watched them as Innes fell asleep – his arms hanging limply by his side, his face still very pale. It was Sherlock who spotted Dr. Connors returning out in the corridor, she poked her head around the door and spoke quietly: "Can I speak to the both of you please?" Shelock had to carefully move Innes so as not to wake him and placed him gently down onto the pillows. Outside the room she explained further: "I didn't want to risk waking Innes up again," She said, she was holding a few sheets of paper in her hands. "I've got his test results back; his white blood cell count is through the roof, it looks like he's got a kidney infection – most likely glomerulonephritis." Both John and Sherlock stared at her for a few seconds before John found his voice.

"Are you sure?" He asked cautiously, his face had gone rigid.

"Not completely, no." She shook her head. "We want to do some more tests, because if it is glomerulonephritis then it could be an indicator that something else is going on. But we have to wait until tomorrow before we can start those tests…" John's hand had risen to his face and he was rubbing his mouth in his concern.

"Oh god… right – so what can you do until then?"

"With your permission, we'll start him on some broad spectrum antibiotics tonight and we can do more tests tomorrow." She answered.

"Yes, yes… do that please." John agreed. "Oh god…" He murmured under his breath, Sherlock reached out his hand and grabbed John's hand that was hanging by his side and squeezed it.

"Will more tests be able to give a more definite result?" Sherlock inquired.

"They should do, yes." She nodded.

"Alright, good." There was a short silence as Sherlock turned slightly so he could look back into the room and see Innes, who was now sleeping quite peacefully.

"I'm about to go off shift now, Dr. Lessings is starting though, and he'll keep an eye on Innes." She told them. "You'll be able to stay until nine, but then visiting hours end and you'll have to go home…"

"Can't we stay with him?" Sherlock started at this, being told to go home just didn't feel right.

"He'll be fine for the night, he'll be looked after – and the two of you need to get some proper sleep, not just propped in a chair." Dr. Connors replied. "You can come back in the morning, but you will have to leave tonight."

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**A/N: As always, I'd love to know what you think of this chapter/story so far!**


	14. Chapter 14

John and Sherlock were herded rather unceremoniously out of Innes' room at just before nine o'clock by a rather maternal looking nurse with bright red hair scraped back into an old fashioned bun and a big grin plastered across her face.

"He'll be alright for the night." She told them as she led them out towards the end of the ward. "We'll look after the wee lamb! You just make sure you two are rested and I'm sure we'll see you in the morning!" John had been incredibly reluctant to leave Innes' side; Sherlock could understand why, but he also thought that starting an argument with the hospital staff over it probably wouldn't gain them anything. John had ruffled Innes' hair and kissed his forehead before finally accompanying the nurse.

"I've got the car with me…" Sherlock told John as they reached the entrance of the hospital and became aware of just how dark it had got while they were inside. John didn't speak, he just nodded glumly; his face was set in a very solemn manner and he wasn't raising his gaze any higher than Sherlock's knees – he didn't seem to want to interact and Sherlock kept throwing glances over at him as they sat in the car. He wasn't sure what would be the best way to initiate conversation… or whether he should even try at all! Maybe John's silence was indicative of the fact he didn't _want _to talk.. He didn't want to ask John if he was alright, because that would be the most utterly idiotic question to ask when Innes was in hospital…

Sherlock had barely followed John into their living room in 221B when John was rummaging about in amongst the bookshelves that lined the walls – he eventually pulled down some medical textbooks and slammed them onto the kitchen table. He began to flick rather violently through the pages, his eyes scanning the pages at real speed. Sherlock could tell what John was looking for without having to ask.

"Glomerulonephritis…" He said slowly, running his fingers along the pages; without looking up he carried the book across the room and sat down in the armchair with it in his lap.

"Would you like a cup of tea or something?" Sherlock asked John.

"No." John replied abruptly, still not looking up from the book that was placed on his knee. It was clear from his tone of voice that he didn't want company, and Sherlock didn't want to force his company upon John.

He left John in the chair and went up to their bedroom, sitting down on the edge of his bed and then collapsing back so he was lying looking up at the ceiling. It wasn't even ten o'clock yet and he hadn't reckoned on feeling tired. He had expected that he would be awake all night with worry about Innes; but now he was home and lying down, he couldn't deny the waves of exhaustion that were rolling over him now. Perhaps it was because he had spent most of the day feeling like he had been treading on egg shells, not wanting to annoy John. Sherlock hated having to consciously think about being considerate – it just wasn't in his general thought process, so when he had to do it, it took a lot more effort. So the effort from that as well as having to not explode in rage at the overly touchy John, he was exhausted…

Sherlock couldn't pinpoint the time that he fell asleep, he hadn't even registered that he was falling asleep as he lay on the bed. He remembered collapsing back onto the bed, then the next thing he could recall was slowly drifting into consciousness, with the weight of his arm across his face. At some point he had raised his arm up and covered his eyes with it, nestling his nose in the crook of his elbow. Perhaps he had been trying to black out the light which he had left on.

Sitting up he checked the time on the digital alarm clock that was on John's night stand, it was quarter to eight. He rubbed his face and got up; he had fallen asleep in his clothes from the previous day – it had been a while since he had done that. What struck him most was john's absence. It was quite clear that John hadn't come up to go to bed – surely he hadn't stayed up all night! As the nurse that had chucked them out of Innes' room had said, the two of them not resting would be useless for them and for Innes. It seemed very odd that on the day that Innes had been admitted into hospital, Sherlock had gotten the most amount of sleep he had had in months… He washed his face quickly in the small en suite bathroom which was joined to their bedroom and changed his clothes. If he and John were going to head back into the hospital for the beginning of visiting hours the they would have to do that pretty shortly.

Sherlock crept down the stairs; he wasn't quite sure what he was going to meet when he got down there. He almost sighed in relief when, as he reached the bottom of the staircase, he could already see that John was fast asleep in his armchair, still with one of the textbooks he had pulled down last night on his lap and a pile of ones he had clearly been through littering the floor. At least he wasn't awake and pacing the room, wearing himself out. But waking John abruptly from sleep wasn't likely to put John into the best of moods – but he had to think about what was more important: John being in a good mood, or the two of them getting to the hospital early to see Innes? He would have to forgo John's mood in favour of Innes.

"John," Sherlock tapped John on the shoulder lightly. "John? Wake up." John jerked very suddenly, as though he had just been dozing.

"Wha – what?" He murmured, opening his eyes sleepily and staring up at Sherlock.

"It's nearly eight o'clock." Sherlock tolr him.

"Eight… Eight o'clock! Jesus, why didn't you wake me earlier Sherlock?!" John's eyes had widened when Sherlock had mentioned the time, but as he had predicted, John had sounded grumpy and annoyed.

"I've only just woken up myself… And you didn't come up to bed last night." Sherlock replied, trying to sound calm.

"Oh god, we're going to be really late for the beginning of visiting hours now!" He had jumped up from the chair that had been his resting place for that night, and he now was racing up the stairs to go and get changed. Sherlock stood stock still, folding his arms across his chest and he knew he was frowning, but he didn't care. How the hell was it _his _fault that John hadn't woken up earlier? He sighed; he didn't want to argue with John, so he made the decision right there and then that he was going to put up with it. John could bitch at him all he wanted, but he wasn't going to retaliate.

"Come on then! Or we'll be even later than we already are!" John called harshly, returning from up the stairs after changing quickly.

"Okay then." Sherlock answered, clenching his jaw tight.

Sherlock had grabbed the car keys; he wanted to drive – mainly because driving would force his mind into thinking about something other than Innes or John. He didn't have to worry about John berating him while he was driving either, because John had realised that he had to update his work about what was going on and that he wouldn't be in for at least a couple of days.

"Are they alright with you taking some time off?" Sherlock asked lightly, trying to bring conversation into a more pleasant tone between the two of them.

"Well they've got to be." John replied gruffly. "All they're doing is planning a new textbook; if they can't do that without me then they really need to get new staff!" This response wasn't exactly what Sherlock had hoped for, so he resealed his mouth.

They arrived at the hospital twenty minutes before visiting times started; Sherlock could tell that John was considering disregarding these times and trying to go up to see Innes early, so to stall them for just a bit he suggested that they should get some breakfast… or at least a cup of tea. After all, neither of them knew if Innes would be better enough for them to be able to get food regularly. John took up on this suggestion and bought himself a sandwich for breakfast – Sherlock watched him eating as he sipped at a cup of coffee. Silently he wished that Innes had gotten much better overnight, otherwise he wasn't sure how he – or more precisely – John would react and cope.

The red headed nurse who had shepherded them out last night was sitting at the nurse's desk in the ward.

"Good morning!" She said, gratingly cheerily, coming out from behind the nurse's desk. "I thought we'd be seeing you two, bright and early as well! Now, Dr. Connors wanted to see the two of you before you go in to see Innes – no, it's alright!" She added very suddenly, as both Sherlock and John had shown signs of arrest. "I'll go and find her, wait here for a moment." She bustled off along the ward to find Dr. Connors, leaving Sherlock and John waiting at the desk. John rapped his fingers impatiently on the desk top and Sherlock stood watching him. The nurse reappeared alongside Dr. Connors; the two of them appeared in deep conversation as they walked along the corridor.

"Dr. Watson, Mr. Holmes – I wanted to give you some consent forms to sign so we can start some tests for Innes." Dr. Connors said as she reached the nurse's desk. "I didn't want to have to disturb you once you're with Innes." She was pulling out a file from behind the front desk and laying them on top of the counter. John barely glanced at them before he scribbled his signature at the bottom of them. "That's fantastic, wonderful." She nodded, refilling them back into what must be Innes' case notes. "Innes has had a bit of a fever during the night, we had to bring in a fan to try and cool him down." She informed them as they walked along the corridor towards Innes' room. Innes was still asleep in the bed, but the duvet that had been covering him had been removed and a thin sheet was over him instead and a fan was propped on a chair next to his bed blowing cold air in his direction. His face was still quite flushed despite him being asleep, and a new IV had been hooked up – with the antibiotics that they had been told about last night attached. John was instantly at Innes' bedside, he ran his fingers gently over Innes' cheek; while Sherlock lingered back. Innes didn't wake, but moved fractionally – perhaps he was acknowledging their presence even in his sleep.

Dr. Connors left them for around half an hour, in which John didn't move from next to Innes' bedside and Sherlock sat down, watching the two of them. When she returned she was accompanied by a porter and a nurse, to take Innes away for some more tests.

"We shouldn't be too long." She told them reassuringly, as they watched the porter wheel Innes' bed out of the room.

John sat down once Innes had been taken away for tests; he had spent last night combing through all of the medical textbooks he owned – trying to research everything he could about glomerulonephritis, it's treatments, and what else it could be a sign of… He wished he had paid a little bit more attention to the consent forms he had signed, even to check what tests they were doing on Innes now. All he had wanted at that time was to see Innes.

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**A/N: As always, I'd love to know what you think of this chapter/story so far! :)**


	15. Chapter 15

The morning passed quickly, yet rather uneventfully. When Innes had been brought back from the tests they were performing, he was still asleep – he hadn't woken up all morning. His temperature was still higher than it should be; and if his body was fighting it off then it might explain why he was sleeping so much. Once or twice Sherlock had nearly nodded off himself in his chair, but he had always caught himself just before he did so. When it got to half twelve, Sherlock could not sit in the room any longer; despite there being a fan that was still blowing, the air in the room felt very close. It had been almost four hours since John and Sherlock had spoken to one another; Sherlock got the impression that John didn't want to communicate, he just wanted to focus on Innes. So Sherlock was surprised when, as he rose from his chair, John spoke:

"Where are you going?"

"I – uh… I need to get some air." Sherlock answered, he had paused where he was standing, but John wasn't even looking at him.

"Fine." John's speech was gruff; it didn't seem that he really cared. Sherlock could feel the scowl on his face as he made his way through the hospital corridors to the entrance; outside the hospital there was a small group of smokers a little way from the doors. He turned to where he had been standing yesterday, to find a young woman where he had been; she was moving in a rather jittery manner – a cigarette in her hand.

"You alright mate?" She asked Sherlock as he stood rather still, seemingly unable to decide where to move.

"I couldn't happen to tap a cigarette from you, could I?" Sherlock replied, she nodded and offered a pack to him. "Thank you." Sherlock took one and lit it up using a lighter that he had had in his coat pocket.

"Are you here visiting someone?" She asked, accepting the packet back; she looked very tired.

"Yeah, my son." Sherlock told her, nodding. "Are you?" This was a stupid question to ask, Sherlock could _see _that she was visiting someone, and it was someone important to her. She had dark circles under her eyes, and her hair was tied back to disguise the fact that it hadn't been washed in a couple of days, she practically emanated exhaustion…

"My daughter." She was taking a shaky drag from her cigarette. "She's in an operation just now, I can't just sit and wait…"

"I can understand that." Sherlock mumbled quietly, "We're still waiting for test results."

"It feels like they take a lifetime, doesn't it?" She agreed, "It's like they don't realise what it feels like when you're sitting waiting on someone deliberating whether your kid's gonna be alright."

"I'm pretty sure I could do the tests they're running quicker than them." She smiled.

"I'm Laura, by the way." She introduced herself, holding out her free hand for Sherlock to shake.

"Sherlock." He shook her hand cordially, once he had let go, she sighed.

"Waiting around in a hospital isn't fun, is it?" She commented somewhat sadly, "My boyfriend thinks I'm trying to run away whenever I come out here for a fag…"

"I'm pretty sure that's what mine thinks too." The words had come out of Sherlock's mouth before he had even realised. "He hasn't spoken to me practically all day… I know he's stressed, but it pisses me off when he takes it out on me."

"He won't mean how he's acting, I'm sure if it was reversed he'd feel the same way." She said, and Sherlock suddenly froze. Maybe this _was _reversed from normal! He always knew he was a bit of a dick, but maybe this was what being on the receiving end of this kind of behaviour felt like.

"Yeah… I'm sure." He mumbled, throwing down the stub of his cigarette and grinding it with the tip of his shoe. "I better go back in. I hope your kid gets better soon."

"Yours too."

"Mr. Holmes!" Sherlock was instantly startled as he re-entered the paediatric ward by Dr. Connors calling him. "I've got some more test results back and I want to chat through them with the two of you, can you grab him just now and we'll go over them?" That sounded ominous, but Sherlock obliged in her instruction. Poking his head around the door frame he said:

"John? Dr. Connors wants to have a chat with us about some of Innes' test results." John was instantly off his chair and out into the corridor.

"There's a relatives room just along here that we can go in to discuss things." She was leading them along the ward corridor and opened the door for them to enter a small room which had chairs lining the walls and a small coffee table in the centre. "Grab a seat." She offered, closing the door behind them and sitting down herself. "Now, we've got a couple more of Innes' test results back and I'm really glad we decided to pursue those tests further."

"What do they show?" John asked, his voice was wavering.

"The indications show that Innes has a form of childhood systemic lupus erythematosus; it's an auto immune disease that's-"

"I know what it is." John snapped shortly; Sherlock blinked at this abrupt behaviour and looked apologetically at Dr. Connors. "How do you know for certain?"

"He's got extremely high levels of proteinuria, and the presentation of glomerulonephritis with wire loop abnormalities has given us a solid histological basis to build the test results. It is renal lupus." She explained, she had dropped the "doctor – patient" act and was explaining doctor to doctor.

"Right…" It took John a second to recover from her blunt statement of the facts. "So what are you going to do about it?"

"We've got a treatment path that we can start him on, but we'll have to give it a couple of days before we can tell whether it's having an impact on him."

"Do it, start him on it, right now." John instructed quickly. "Is there anything else we can do?"

"We just have to monitor him to make sure that he doesn't get any worse."

"What happens if he doesn't improve?" Sherlock asked quietly.

"Then we would plan what the next step would be, hopefully we've caught it early enough to prevent any serious damage." She carried on.

"And if we haven't?" Sherlock didn't want to ask, but he needed to know the eventualities that he may be faced with.

"Then Innes could potentially go into renal failure and require a kidney transplant."

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**A/N: As always, I'd love to know what you think about this chapter/story so far!**


	16. Chapter 16

The next two days were John's definition of hell. He spent nearly all of his time at Innes' bedside in the hospital, and the times he was shoved out of the hospital at night time he was researching into lupus and the treatment surrounding it. During these two days Sherlock remained the silent but stalwart companion; he drove the two of them back and forth from the hospital, he made sure that John got food and drink throughout the day and attempted to ensure he got some sleep, but apart from that Sherlock seemed to be operating on autopilot, without even consciously thinking. He couldn't remember most of the time that he spent in the hospital, the moments that he could remember were highlighted in his mind because Innes had been awake. But even then he barely had any interaction with his son because John wanted to speak to Innes and reassure him – he was part of the medical profession, perhaps he was the best person to be with Innes… In the end, they were blood and Sherlock was an add on. That was exactly how he felt at the moment too – an add on; outside of the family unit. Sherlock was used to having to deal with individual separation, he had been dealing with it his whole life, but in this situation he didn't know quite whether he should make his presence known.

The unfortunate truth that Sherlock was coming to realise was that the treatment Innes was on wasn't working. In the two days that Innes had been on the treatment his condition had been gradually deteriorating. Sherlock was able to see that because of the objective view he was being forced to take. Innes' fever had stayed at a pretty constant rate, he had visibly thinned down – his cheeks were much hollower than their normal appearance – the periods of his consciousness were getting shorter and shorter. Despite the treatment, the catheter bag that was inserted in Innes still showed that there was blood in his urine. Sherlock could tell, he could perceive quicker than the rest of them, the drugs weren't working. John, however, could not see this. Sherlock wasn't sure whether he was just in denial and was hoping that Innes would be alright, or whether he was allowing naivety to cloud his judgement. Of course Sherlock _wanted _Innes to be okay, he desperately wanted that – but he wasn't going to delude himself out of the truth… Innes was not getting better – and they had to do something about that sooner rather than later. So when the two days they had been advised as a time trial were over, Sherlock out Dr. Connors alone to try and get an accurate picture of what could happen next.

"I want to speak to you without John around." Sherlock told her after she had led him into the relative's room. "I don't mean to bad mouth John, but he's been unrealistic and unreasonable – and I want to know what's next." She looked uncomfortable, as though she had been caught in the middle of a domestic dispute.

"If the treatment continues to have no effect, then we'd stop it for a period of time and put Innes onto dialysis – in the hope that taking the strain off, his body might recover itself." She explained, she was flexing the palms of her hands with her fingers interlocked, which didn't reassure Sherlock. "But there's no guarantee that would work either."

"And if that didn't work?" Sherlock continued.

"He would more than likely go into renal failure." She answered.

"You mean like, need a kidney transplant?"

"That's exactly what I mean." She nodded.

"Shit!" Sherlock cursed, he was running the palm of his hand over his face in vexation. "The treatment's not working though, is it?"

"From what I've been observing so far… Innes hasn't shown enough improvement for us to believe that the treatment is working."

"Shit!" Sherlock repeated. How the hell could things be this bad? This had started off as Innes just having a stomach ache last week and now they were talking about potential renal failure?! It felt like this must be a very surreal dream… and a very cruel one at that. "Will it have to be our decision to stop the current treatment?" Sherlock had the awful thought that if that was the case then the two of them would both opt for different courses of treatment.

"We can't do anything without consent." She confirmed, and Sherlock had to stop himself from swearing a third time. "We can advise as to what the best course of action would be best for Innes, but the final say has to come from his guardians."

"Fuck, and John being John will think that his medical opinion is just as valid as yours…" Sherlock muttered.

"He has hope." Dr. Connors said suddenly, "And that's not a bad thing, we just have to make sure that hope is solidified in the best course of action for Innes."

"Hope, yeah…" Sherlock scoffed, "But hope is nothing compared to the logic of the situation… And if John doesn't want to see it, it won't be there."

"Well…" She shrugged, "Maybe the logic part is where you come into the equation. The right combination of hope and logical action will be just what Innes requires."

"As well as a new kidney."

"We're not there yet, we still have a bit longer in the first treatment plan, Innes might make a miraculous recovery – I've seen it happen."

The hope of a miraculous recovery was a long shot though, and it wasn't something which Sherlock could put his faith or trust in happening. He knew too well, or was too cynical, to expect Innes to just get better. He was glad, though, that it would be Dr. Connors who would broach these issues with John and not himself; he wasn't sure that John would have entertained the thought that this treatment wasn't going to work for Innes.

So when Dr. Connors called them out at five later on that evening and led them along to the relatives room, Sherlock almost felt relieved that it wasn't he who was doing this.

"This is Dr. Kaboul." She introduced them to the gentleman who was waiting in the room, apparently for them. "He's the consultant nephrologist who has been overseeing Innes' treatment." Dr. Kaboul was a middle aged man in a suit, with greying hair and a thick moustache; he smiled at John and Sherlock but received no friendly greeting from either of them. "We thought it would be a good idea to have a little chat about Innes' treatment plan." She explained as Sherlock took a seat and John perched right on the edge of the seat beside him. "Innes has been on the antibiotics to try and clear up the glomerulonephritis for two days, and it doesn't appear to be having any effect on him… we think that it might be a good idea to try something else."

"Something else… like what?" John asked weakly, his voice seemed to be thin from disuse.

"We've been discussing his treatment," Dr. Kaboul interjected. "And thought it might be best to take him off the antibiotics and put him on dialysis. It would give his kidneys a chance to recover without them having to take the strain of filtering his blood at the same time."

"Dialysis?" John was shaking his head. "But… but that means you don't think that his kidneys will be able to recover fully…"

"That's not exactly what we're saying." He answered, "Relieving his kidneys of their work could potentially allow them to heal of their own accord."

"But if they didn't then he'd need a kidney transplant." John said firmly, this was what he had spent the last few nights researching. "No… wouldn't it be best to give the antibiotics a little bit more time to work?" He argued.

"We can try… but the fact that he hasn't yet shown improvement would go against that hypothesis." Dr. Connors answered.

"Even just for the rest of tonight?" He pleaded.

"Whatever you decide, we won't start anything until tomorrow morning." She agreed. "But Innes hasn't been improving and we don't want to continue with a treatment that isn't doing anything for him."

"I… well, okay." Sherlock stared at John; he hadn't expected him to fold that easily. He had expected John to argue and refuse to change the treatment; maybe he wasn't quite as in denial as Sherlock thought he had been…

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**A/N: As always, I'd love to know what you think of this chapter/story so far! **


	17. Chapter 17

John seemed defeated on the way home, Sherlock was trying to gauge his emotion as he drove, but he wasn't being particularly successful. John didn't stay up as he had been the past couple of days to research the treatment plans, he went straight up to bed and didn't resurface. Sherlock was left awake, uneasy and restless. HE couldn't help but shake the feeling that he had prematurely judged John's actions, and then been overly surprised when John had agreed straight away to the next step. Maybe John knew that the treatment Innes was on wasn't working and that they needed to be doing something.

By 3am Sherlock was exhausted, he had searched through John's medical textbooks and pillaged through Google's search results to try and find out what was likely to be the outcome of the next step they were taking tomorrow. Nothing he could find was encouraging – it all seemed to indicate that Innes would need a kidney transplant; the only variation was the length of needing a transplant. It wasn't something that they could accurately estimate. Innes could potentially remain stable, in which case they could use dialysis to act in place of his kidneys until that no longer became a viable option; but if he continued to deteriorate then he would need a transplant as a matter of urgency.

Finally Sherlock gave up his search, this was something that he couldn't predict or logic out, and even thinking about it made his cerebral cortex ache. He left his shoes in the living room so he wouldn't wake John when he entered the bedroom, but he had need not worry – John was fast asleep curled into a ball. From the position John was lying, only half of his face was visible to Sherlock, but it looked like he had been crying. Maybe that was why he had gone straight up the stairs when they had arrived home – because he was upset… but why would he hide that from Sherlock? It made no sense at all! Actually, the entire manner of their relationship over the past week hadn't made much sense. It felt like they had travelled back seven years to before they had been in a relationship; they weren't co-dependant, they weren't supporting each other – hell, they had barely spoken to each other! Sherlock left a space between John and himself in the bed, he didn't want to enforce closeness between them if John didn't want it. He lay watching John for a few minutes, then he couldn't resist stretching out his hand and running it gently through John's hair.

"We're going to be all right." He murmured sleepily, "We'll make sure that Innes is fine, I promise."

Sherlock began to wake as John stirred – somehow in their sleep, his arm had ended up over John's waist.

"Good morning." John spoke quietly, and the sound of his voice reassured Sherlock immensely – at least they were still on speaking terms.

"Morning." Sherlock yawned, his brain still felt like it was being crushed by the weight of information he had poured into it last night. He should have filtered through it last night and sifted out the irrelevant info, but he hadn't – and the result was the crushing headlock feeling he had now. "God – what time is it?" He asked, stretching out on the bed as John stood up and began to sort out clothes.

"Just before seven." John answered, unfolding a shirt and throwing it haphazardly onto the edge of the bed; Sherlock groaned.

"Urgh… I need to get up, don't I?" Sherlock asked slowly. He didn't really want to have to face today; he had this feeling – he wasn't sure whether it was described as a gut feeling – that today really wasn't going to go well.

"It would be helpful, yes." Sherlock blinked, the bubble that had been there as he woke up seemed to have burst, and John was barking in short, clipped tones as he buttoned up his shirt. For about five shining minutes it had been as though nothing was wrong, but that had changed in an instant. Sherlock sighed as he sat up. "You can stay in your bed if you want, you don't _have _to come." John snapped, obviously reacting to Sherlock's sigh.

"I didn't say anything… of course I'm coming." Sherlock insisted, keeping his voice even.

"Not like you do anything, might as well stay in your bed." John continued to chunter under his breath.

"I'm not having this argument again John." Sherlock stated firmly.

"Fine." He said abruptly, grabbing his shoes from their place under the radiator and marching out of the room.

What was _with _John? All of a sudden Sherlock felt like he was living with an extremely premenstrual woman. He wanted to put it down to stress, but it pissed him off so much that he didn't _want _to justify it! John should be able to control his emotions.

Sherlock waited until the time he knew they needed to leave before going down the stairs, he didn't want to enable any more opportunities for arguments. So by the time he went down, there was just enough time for him to slip on his shoes and grab the car keys before they needed to leave.

"Daddy! Father!" Innes' small voice floated out as they were approaching his room along the corridor. It sounded strange hearing it properly for the first time in a couple of days.

"Innes!" John practically ran along the corridor and to Innes' bedside in the room. Innes was proper up on a couple of pillows; his face had lost most of the pink fevered flush that had been lingering across it and his features looked a little more alert. "How are you feeling?" John's voice was shaking with what sounded like a combination of anticipation and relief.

"Bit sore." Innes shrugged. "But guess what?! I'm getting a machine that's going to filter my blood for me!" It was odd hearing Innes talking about it; for someone who was technically still very unwell, his voice sounded very excitable about what was happening to him.

"Yes, you are. Are you excited about that Innes?" John asked, revelling in the fact that Innes seemed to be feeling up to having a conversation.

"Yeah! It's like being part robot, or a cyberman – isn't it?" Innes' small face had broken into a grin.

"A bit like a cyberman, yeah…" John nodded, he should have known Innes would take the prospect of dialysis in a much better manner than he had taken it himself… Innes loved Doctor Who, so if he could associate the treatment he had to have with being a bit like a cyberman, then at least they knew he would allow it to be done.

"How is it like a cyberman Innes?" Sherlock asked, he was standing behind John.

"Cause they're going to hook me up to a big machine that's going to take all my blood and clear out all the bad stuff!"

"Spot on Innes!" Sherlock nodded.

"It's so cool!" John laughed weakly, but it sounded relieved.

"If it makes you all better then it sure is." John ruffled Innes' hair gently and sat down on the chair next to Innes's bed.

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**A/N: As always, I'd love to know what you think of this chapter/story so far! :)**


	18. Chapter 18

There was hope… As Innes was started on the dialysis plan he was conscious; and whether due to the dialysis running its course, or just luck, Innes stayed awake more that day than he had in the past two days on the antibiotic treatment. By lunch time John seemed to have calmed down, he had returned to the usual John – maybe it was the encouragement he received from actually being able to talk to Innes properly for the first time in three days… and the fact that Innes was acting much more like he normally did. It didn't faze Innes that he was in hospital, or that he was still really quite unwell – he complained that he was going to miss all of the Viking topic at school and that was the only thing he seemed to care about.

There was hope… but it didn't last long. The morning had been perfect – as the machine filtered Innes' blood as it was supposed to, Innes was alert and responsive in their conversation. John thought Innes was healing, that the choice he had made last night had been right. Innes began yawning at about 3 o'clock; at first he tried to hide the fact that he was yawning, but he couldn't keep it from John.

"You can have a rest if you're tired Innes, you don't have to say awake." John said soothingly to Innes.

"But I want to stay awake…" Innes yawned again as he said this.

"Have a little nap then, brighten your head, okay?" John told him and he nodded; Innes wriggled down further under the blanket he had over him and rested his head against the pillow. It seemed like in seconds he went from wide awake to fast asleep – his breathing was shallow but steady. Sherlock was more than happy just sitting with John as the both of them observed Innes sleeping; the smile that was now on John's face and the way the lines on his face had uncreased was nice to see.

After about twenty minutes of sitting watching, John stretched out his hand and rested it on Innes' as it was lying on top of the bed sheet. For the tiniest moment Sherlock saw a flicker on John's face, he went from calm to anxious and then to confused in about two milliseconds. John got up from his chair, he was holding Innes' hand and looking down at it, examining it minutely.

"What?" Sherlock asked quietly, not wishing to wake up Innes again.

"I… I don't know, I think something's wrong…" John turned round to him, he was still gripping Innes' hand and the concern had instantly relit in his face.

"What? How do you mean?" Sherlock stood up too, trying to see what John was staring at.

"Look at his wrists and hands…" John instructed Sherlock, "What do you see?" Sherlock reached out his hand to take Innes' from John's so he could have a proper look.

"His hands… they're a bit swollen?" Sherlock answered, he wasn't quite sure whether that was the correct answer for what John was looking for, but it was the only thing he could notice.

"Yeah… they shouldn't be like that." John stated, he was shaking his head. "Especially not whilst he's on dialysis."

"What do you want me to do? Do you want me to go and find a doctor?" Sherlock inquired, John had taken Innes' hand back and was gently turning it from the palm over to the back to look at every angle.

"Yeah, now." John nodded and Sherlock obeyed, turning tail and going to seek out a doctor. He found Dr. Connors, but he didn't even know what to say to her – all he could do was implore that John knew there was something wrong and ask her to come straight away. She finally accompanied him, and Sherlock perceived that she was convinced that John was an over anxious parent wanting to check anything and everything out.

"Right Dr. Watson, what can I do for you?" She asked, a notable air of exasperation present in her voice.

"Innes' hands." John started firmly, holding up his son's hand a little higher than the top of the sheet. "His hands and wrists are all swollen, and he's gotten tired again."

"His body is under a lot of pressure, he could just be needing the sleep…" She said.

"But that doesn't explain his hands, they're odemic! Look!" He waved Innes' hand once more and this time she didn't seem to ignore him, so she took a couple of steps forwards and glanced down at Innes' hand. And she did a double take, and then reached out her hand to examine Innes' more closely. "You see now?" John asked.

"I do…" She said, her voice had taken on a completely new tone altogether, she now seemed bizarrely fascinated. "Have you noticed anything else?" She asked, laying Innes' hand back down on the sheet.

"He was yawning quite a bit…" Sherlock interjected, "But apart from that he's seemed fine today, almost like he was getting better."

"Any shortness of breath while he was talking to you?"

"No… Not that I noticed." John shook his head; Dr. Connors had now, by force of presence, forced John back from Innes's bedside, and was flitting around it. Firstly checking the catheter bag, Sherlock guessed she was checking for blood, and then they noticed it – not blood but what looked like a murky brown liquid; then she whipped her stethoscope from around her neck and gently listened to Innes' chest.

"His breathing is very shallow; he's not taking breathing deep into his lungs." She was muttering, a line present on her forehead where she was having to concentrate.

"What… what does that mean?" John's voice had suddenly jumped up about three octaves.

That something's not right… That… that the dialysis doesn't appear to be working properly." She answered, not meeting John's eyes. "Tiredness, blood in his urine, odema, shortness of breath – these are all symptoms of renal failure…" John had covered his face with his hands and Sherlock heard him exhale very sharply.

"I… I – but – proper renal failure?" John asked, he sounded short of breath himself, as though he was struggling to get enough air into himself. Dr. Connors was straightening up again, rehanging her stethoscope around her neck, she nodded solemnly. "Oh god!" John sat down into one of the chairs, his hands still clutching his face – Sherlock could see him trembling.

"But… he seemed alright this morning, it looked like he was getting better…" Sherlock commented, the turn had happened so quickly that it seemed unbelievable.

"That can happen, a brief period of stability before a decline." She replied. "He's going to need a kidney transplant." She stated matter of factly. "I'll page Dr. Kaboul to come down and have a look at him, get him to confirm what I think."

They didn't have to wait long for Dr. Kaboul to arrive, and they watched in silence with baited breath for him to make his pronouncement.

"I agree with Dr. Connors, he is going into renal failure." He said and John groaned loudly. "I'll get him on the transplant list; he should be fairly high up – especially because of his age."

"I want you to test me." John found his voice, but it was not strong. "Test me to see if I can donate to him." Sherlock saw Dr. Connors and Dr. Kaboul exchange a glance, and then Dr. Connors agreed.

"I'll get a nurse to come along and test you." She told John.

When the two doctors had left, the silence rung in the room; Sherlock was looking between John and Innes, not sure whether to say anything. This was the very worst eventuality of what could have happened…

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**A/N: As always, I'd love to know what you think of this chapter/story so far!**


	19. Chapter 19

"Pull over." John barked very suddenly; it was twenty past nine and the past three hours seemed to have disappeared in a haze of confusion and worry. Sherlock was driving them home after the visiting hours had ended. "Pull over, now!" the sharpness in his voice made Sherlock take notice; he veered to the left, pulling into a lay by in front of a patch of grass and a kid's play park. Sherlock was too busy trying to find a place to stop to get the chance to look at John, but he could tell that something was wrong just by John's tone of voice. John burst out of the car almost before Sherlock had managed to bring it to a complete standstill; Sherlock fumbled with the keys, trying to pull them out of the ignition. By the time he had gotten out of the car, John had fallen to his knees on the grass verge and proceeded to throw up.

"John!" Sherlock called in concern, as his partner remained on his knees, still heaving. Sherlock tried to run to John's aid, but John threw out his arm to stop Sherlock getting close.

"No…" John choked weakly, "Wait." Sherlock batted John's arm out of the way and knelt down beside John.

"John." Sherlock put his hand on John's shoulder.

"Just… give me a second, alright?" John gasped, Sherlock could feel his breathing. "Give me a second…" He repeated quieter – Sherlock could see him swallowing; after a few seconds John sat back on his heels. "Oh god…" He was wiping his mouth with his sleeve; he moved to stand up but his knees seemed to be shaking too much.

"Do you need a hand?" Sherlock offered instantly, jumping to his feet and putting his hand under John's arm to support him. After helping him to his feet they stood for a moment while John recentered his balance, then led him to the car. John sat in the passenger seat, leaning out the door and put his head in his hands. "Do you want me to get anything for you?"

"No…" John shook his head, "Can we just go home please?"

"Yeah – okay." Sherlock agreed, crossing round to the other side of the car and getting into the driver's seat. John had swung his legs into the car and slammed the door. "Are you okay John?" Sherlock was now throwing concerned glances over at him every few seconds.

"I just want to go home." John answered quietly, he was leaning his forehead against the glass of his car window.

"Okay." Sherlock agreed, but that didn't make his worried feeling disappear.

John sat down on the sofa in their living room, he seemed drained; his face was pale and he looked more exhausted now than he had in the past week. Sherlock put the kettle on; making both of them a cup of tea – adding extra sugar to John's hopefully that would make him feel a little better.

"Here," He handed the mug to John, "Drink this…" John nodded in thanks as he accepted the mug from Sherlock and took a tentative sip. "Are you feeling better?"

"Not really." John answered; he went silent for a couple of minutes. "Just – shock… Christ Sherlock, how the fuck did this happen?" John burst finally, he put his mug down on the coffee table in front of him and ran his hands over his face. "I… I can't even help him!" John vented his own frustration, by pounding his hands against his knees.

"It's not your fault John." Sherlock replied, he was still standing across the other side of the living room drinking his cup of tea, watching John and trying to decide whether to go and console him.

"It's that goddamned sperm donor's fault!" John shouted in anger. Sherlock knew, from their time being together throughout Innes' life, that John was referring to Innes' biological father – he had called him the "sperm donor" for years now; that's all he had ever been after all. "If Innes had inherited Harry's blood type, then it would have all been okay – I could have donated a kidney to him, and we wouldn't be in this fucking mess!" John's voice broke as he reached the end of his sentence, and he dropped his head into his hands again.

After they had been informed that Innes was now going into renal failure, John had demanded that he be tested to check if he could donate to Innes – when he had been, it had come back as no match. Innes' blood type was O negative rhesus; he could only receive from someone with the same blood type as him, and it was rare. The moment that Dr. Connors had mentioned Innes' blood type, John had moaned aloud – he knew the difficulties in dealing with the transplant list, and when that was complicated by possibly the rarest blood type you could get, then there was a miniscule chance that Innes would get a kidney.

"I – I can't do this Sherlock…! I just… can't…" John was shaking his head so fiercely that Sherlock was surprised that the tremors didn't cause his tea to spill. "I can't lose him – not now, not after everything!" John's voice did break this time; it cracked as John's emotions welled up and burst over inside him. Sherlock crossed the room and sat down beside John very deliberately' this felt like the first time the two of them had engaged in properly open conversation in ages.

"We're not going to lose him John." Sherlock put his arm around John's shoulder and pulled him in close, for a second it felt awkward, but then John turned towards Sherlock and buried his head into Sherlock's shoulder, stifling his sobs with the material of Sherlock's shirt. "It's alright, it will be alright…" Sherlock was talking, but he didn't really mean the words – they were hollow and meaningless. "I promise, it will be alright." He repeated, hoping that it would maybe sound more convincing if he said it more than once.

"I don't… I don't know what to do Sherlock." John said honestly, "Why does everything go to shit all at the same time?" He asked, "I lost Harry, I lost her because I couldn't do anything to help her – I can't let the same thing happen to Innes, I _won't _be responsible – I need to do _something… _but I don't know what!"

"Something will come up, I'll see if I can find anything…" Sherlock responded in hope.

"Thank you…" John murmured, his hand holding onto Sherlock's shirt ensuring that Sherlock wasn't able to draw back, "Thank you for everything; I couldn't do this without you Sherlock, I really couldn't." Sherlock wrapped his arms around John, wanting to hold him – wanting to make him feel better, wanting him to believe that it was all going to be alright… which he was desperately trying to convince himself as much as John.

"It will be okay, I promise… I don't know how, but I know it will be." Sherlock stated firmly, holding onto John tightly. "I'll make sure of it."

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**A/N: As always I'd love to know what you think of this chapter/story so far!**


	20. Chapter 20

"You should go up to bed…" Sherlock said calmly to John; they had been sitting on the sofa, John nestled into Sherlock like Innes did when he was looking for comfort, for nearly an hour.

"Yeah…" John murmured slowly, he didn't seem to want to tear himself away from Sherlock's side where he had gotten comfortable.

"Come on," Sherlock encouraged him by moving slightly on the sofa. "Bed time – on you go." John moved to go up, but Sherlock didn't follow him.

"Aren't you coming?" John asked, pausing for a second and looking down at Sherlock still on the sofa.

"You go up; I'll be up in a minute." Sherlock insisted.

"You alright?" John asked quickly, sounding concerned.

"Yeah, just want a minute to arrange thoughts – mind palace, y'know?" Sherlock answered, although he wasn't quite sure if he was entirely convincing.

"You sure?" John prompted.

"Yeah."

Okay." He agreed. "If you're not up soon, I'll come down and check on you." Sherlock nodded as he watched John climbing the stairs up to their bedroom; the moment that John was out of sight, Sherlock jumped into action. There were a couple of questions that had been circling in his brain, and that he hadn't wanted to bring up in front of John until he could clarify what he was thinking. From the way that John had been talking to the two doctors, it was possible for an adult to donate a kidney to a child, and that person could function with one kidney… Sherlock raked in among the small drawers that were set underneath the shelves attached on the wall; he was looking for a small red book which would contain the information he wanted to know. It took emptying nearly three drawers before he came across it; it was a shabby, slightly dog-eared, thirty six year old book; Sherlock flipped open the first page and saw inscribed at the top: 'Sherlock Holmes – born 6 January 1977'. He had kept his baby book for a reason, it had all the medical information in it about him that he should ever need; over the years he had filed away any medical documents into it. Injection slips before going abroad, prescription slips, notes from the clinic where he had gone through withdrawal, and right at the front, what he was looking for: his blood type. Sherlock let out a breath that he hadn't realised he was keeping in as he stared down at the page, on which some doctor had scrawled in the small box which was labelled 'blood type': O negative rhesus. He had the same blood type as Innes, which meant – theoretically – he could donate to him…

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**A/N: Apologies for this being such a short chapter - work and my brain are killing me! I promise the next one will be longer! And as always, I'd love to know what you think of this chapter/story so far!**


	21. Chapter 21

John was slightly annoyed when Sherlock refused to eat in the morning, his stomach was twisting itself into knots inside him, but Sherlock's utter refusal made him feel irritated. Sherlock was very distant this morning, his mind seemed to be somewhere else entirely and this was first indicated by the fact he let John drive to the hospital for the first time. He was being the silent one now… John had thought that after last night, when the barrier that had been between them seemed to have broken down, that they would be communicating much more freely… but as he watched Sherlock in the car, he wasn't so sure.

Sherlock had spent all of last night lying awake in the bed next to John, as his partner nestled in close to him. Every time he closed his eyes, the only thing he could see was Innes; Innes – unconscious in his hospital bed, Innes – flushed and feverish, all he could see was Innes. And the only thought that stuck in his mind was the decision he had to make – even though his mind had partly decided it for him already; the conscious part wasn't sure yet. His unconscious mind knew what he had to do, knew that the choice had been made from the second his eyes rested on the blood type, but he was still unsure. There could be any number of reasons that could prevent what he wanted to happen, he didn't want to get his hopes up for them to then be dashed. He had to ask the questions first, he had to make sure first – and then his mind would stop repeating.

When they arrived at the hospital they headed straight for Innes' room, but just before they reached it, Sherlock stopped.

"I want to find Dr. Connors." He said, "I have a few… questions to ask."

"Do you want me to come?" John asked, but Sherlock shook his head.

"You go and see Innes; I'll only be a few minutes." Sherlock insisted, once he had watched John go inside Innes' room and sit down by his bedside, he went in search of the doctor. He found her at the nurse's desk, clearly dealing with another case, but Sherlock needed to speak to her so he waited.

"Mr. Holmes," She greeted him when she saw him standing waiting.

"I want to talk to you." He started slowly, "I have a few questions I need to ask."

"Alright, shall we go to the relative's room?" She agreed, Sherlock nodded and followed her to the room. She closed the door behind them and Sherlock stood for a moment, his heart hammering in his chest very hard.

"Am I correct in thinking that Innes would be able to cope with only one kidney?" Sherlock inquired eventually.

"Technically yes," She answered, "It's not ideal – but it's all we could hope for, his body would adjust to it."

"I… I've been doing some research checking up on a few things…" Sherlock continued, "And I believe I've got the same blood type as Innes… would that mean I could donate to him?"

"Well…" She had stared at him for a few seconds before speaking. "It's not purely down to blood type, we'd have to test for antibodies – the closer the match, the less likely his body would be to reject a transplant."

"Could you do that please?" His voice was set in confirmation. "I need to do something to help, and if I can, I want to donate a kidney to Innes."

"I can take a blood sample from you just now and get it tested…?" She suggested.

"Yeah, just do it." Sherlock agreed rather impatiently.

"I'll get a syringe." She told him and left the relative's room for a moment, with Sherlock still standing there anxiously. "Roll up your sleeve." She instructed Sherlock, closing the door behind her. "This test might not be completely accurate if-"

"I haven't eaten this morning." Sherlock cut her off. "I knew I was going to ask to be tested, so I've fasted for twelve hours."

"Right…" She had hesitated before uncapping the syringe. "You do understand that there will be certain procedures that you'll have to follow through if you're a match, before Innes can get a kidney?"

"They can be circumvented if necessary." Sherlock responded.

"They can't really…" She began.

"I'll transfer him to private health care if I need to." Sherlock had already considered this option, especially after the fiasco of waiting for test results, but he knew that John would object. However if it was Innes' best chance of getting a kidney that he needed, then Sherlock would insist upon it.

"Oh…" Dr. Connors just stared at him.

"Don't get me wrong – I'm not complaining about what you've done for Innes so far…" Sherlock justified. "But if my son needs a kidney, I'm going to do my damnest to make sure he gets what he needs."

"That's understandable." She nodded, she was now searching for a vein in Sherlock's elbow. "You might want to look away for this bit." She said warningly.

"It's fine." Sherlock replied, he had been in more contact with needles then she probably had.

"That's you – done." She informed him a few minutes later, once she had drawn blood and then held a cotton ball onto the injection mark for a few moments. "I'll get this sent off to be tested.

"How long will it take?"

"A couple of hours, I'll get it sped through because it could influence a transplant." She answered.

"Thank you." Sherlock rolled his sleeve down, "Oh – please don't tell John any of this, I haven't had the chance to tell him about this yet – I don't want him to know until we've got the results back. I don't want to worry him, or give him uncertain hope."

"If that's what you want, then alright." She agreed.

Sherlock had even thought of a story that he could tell to John if he wanted to know why he had wanted to speak to Dr. Connors, but when he returned to the room, John didn't even ask.

Those few hours, in which Sherlock was carrying the weight of what he was trying to do, felt like they were the longest hours of Sherlock's life. John was totally on edge – every time he heard footsteps in the corridor outside he jerked, as though hoping desperately that it might be someone coming to inform them that Innes was going to receive a kidney from somewhere. The knot which was tangling Sherlock's insides only seemed to be getting tighter and tighter as he watched John and Innes.

It could only have been two hours, perhaps a little more, but it seemed to stretch on for days before Dr. Connors came to the door.

"Mr. Holmes," She said, and Sherlock instantly jumped to his feet. "May I speak to you?" John shot the two of them a rather quizzical look as Sherlock followed her out of the room. She had barely closed the door of the relative's room before Sherlock managed to force his words out:

"So?" The anxious bundle inside him seemed to twitch and tighten; his vocal cords had constricted so much that when he did speak the word came out much higher than his usual tone of speech.

"You're a match." She replied instantly, not prolonging Sherlock's agony. He let out a huge breath in relief, his inside uncoiling very quickly and creating a floating sensation. "You have four out of five indicators the same as Innes, which means that he's much less likely to go into rejection if he receives an organ from you." The sensation that ensued within Sherlock was bizarre, for a few seconds it felt as though he was depersonalised, like he was there in some way other than his person.

"Good, good…" Sherlock breathed, it felt as though he was releasing all the tension that had been building up inside of him as he was exhaling. "What do we do next?"

"Well, the next step is to inform Innes' guardian, which means yourself and your partner… And if he agrees, you'd have to have a physical examination and then we'd arrange the transplant with the coordinating team." She explained, "They're the ones responsible for arranging the transplant, as it will require both yourself and Innes to be in surgery at coinciding times."

"Right, well… fantastic!" Sherlock nodded.

"Is this something you want to proceed with?" She confirmed, her face had relaxed into a smile.

"Yes, definitely!" Sherlock agreed.

"It _is _a big thing to be doing, I don't want to mislead you into thinking that the surgery is without risk…" It was as though she was trying to give Sherlock a disclaimer in case he wanted to change his mind.

"He's my son… there's nothing I _wouldn't _do for him." Sherlock stated firmly, "I _want _to do this."

"Alright, that's fine… it's just most living organ donors have to go through weeks – if not months – of psychological evaluation before they can actually go through with it."

"Yeah, but Innes doesn't really have that kind of time span before he needs this, does he?" Sherlock refuted.

"Not in the condition he is in right now?" She shook her head.

"Then I need to do this, I am saying it is what I want – how could that possible be questioned?" Sherlock felt a tiny twinge of annoyance, like maybe this was her way to talk him _out _of going through with this.

"Normally live donors go through a psychological evaluation to make sure that it isn't something that they will regret."

"I'm not going to regret this – certainly not if it keeps my son alive!" Sherlock insisted. "If I have to go through a session with a shrink to prove that, then I will – but only if it can be done in enough time so it will definitely benefit Innes."

"It may not come to that." She smiled in an attempt to be reassuring. "the first thing we need to do is speak to John."

"About that…" Sherlock said slowly, he had been too worried about the results of the test to think about how John would react if he was a match… "Would it be possible for you to inform John without me being there?" She blinked rather noticeably at this request. "It's just, I'd rather let John have the information sink in without me being there so he doesn't fly off the handle with me."

"Okay…" She agreed, "If that's what you want, then I can take Dr. Watson aside and inform him of the possibilities and see what he says."

"Thank you." Sherlock answered.

As he walked back to Innes' room, he had to prevent himself from allowing an overflowing of joy and relief to express itself. He wanted to run up and down the corridors, he wanted to shout from the rooftops, he wanted to proclaim his gladness he was able to help Innes! And that was good! He mastered himself, however, to his normal state, so that when he re-entered the room he didn't appear too out of the ordinary. Innes was still asleep, breathing quite shallowly, his chest only rising and falling minimally. Dr. Connors waited a few moments before returning to the room and sticking her head around the door: "Dr. Watson, can I have a word?"

"Sure… sure." John agreed, scrambling to his feet and following her quickly out of the door. Sherlock was left alone in the room with Innes, he pulled his chair closer to Innes' bed so that he could reach out his hand and hold Innes'. When his hand made contact with Innes, he involuntarily squeezed it in his relief, he wanted to know it was going to be okay – and to his surprise he felt Innes squeeze back.

"Innes?" Sherlock said quietly, edging to the front of the chair he was sitting in so he could be closer to Innes' bed. Innes' eyes flickered slightly, and he only half opened them, looking confused.

"Papa?" Sherlock had never heard Innes' voice sound so small – or weak – before, and it unsettled him.

"It's alright Innes, I'm here." Sherlock answered soothingly, squeezing the hand that he was holding onto, and placing his other hand at Innes' hair – his forehead was still very warm and clammy.

"Papa, I'm scared." Innes' words nearly broke Sherlock's heart.

"You don't need to be scared Innes, not at all – you're being really brace!" Sherlock spoke softly.

"Daddy's scared… isn't he?" Innes asked, he was having to struggle to draw in his breaths.

"He is Innes, but that's because he's worried about you – he wants you to be alright." Sherlock stroked Innes' forehead soothingly.

"Am I going to die Papa?" Innes said very quietly.

"No! No Innes – you're going to be just fine!" Sherlock replied assuredly. "You just need to rest and let daddy and I look after you…"

"I love you." Innes murmured, his eyelids were drooping again as he was fighting off sleep.

"I love you too Innes." Sherlock whispered, watching Innes falling asleep, still stroking his forehead gently.

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**A/N: As always, I'd love to know what you think of this chapter/story so far! **


	22. Chapter 22

John's heart had leapt into his throat as Sherlock returned to Innes' room, there was something going on and he didn't know –but he wanted to know, because it was annoying him. He was already stressed up to his eyeballs, with his insides frozen in a constant lurch; worry, stress, and confusion were not a good combination for him. Sherlock had barely said a word to John all day, his mind seemed to be a thousand miles away – or maybe he was inhabiting his inner mind palace – John could see it in his eyes, the light in them seemed to dim whenever he was in this kind of state. Innes was still unconscious – the nurse had informed John that he hadn't woken up during the night, and that they had restarted a saline drip to stop him from becoming dehydrated. John wanted to curl up into a small ball. Make himself so small and so inward looking that he would be defended from the outside world; but he couldn't do that and be there for Innes. Anyway, cutting off emotionally wasn't really a viable option for him – if that was anyone's thing, it was Sherlock's.

John wondered what Sherlock was talking to Dr. Connors about; he was probably complaining – probably trying to get Innes moved to private healthcare… yes, that would be exactly the sort of thing that Sherlock would do on his own. He wouldn't want to annoy John – and there was less chance in infuriating him if that transfer had already been arranged. This was the possibility that had run through John's mind when Sherlock had stated he wanted to find Dr. Connors and ask a few questions before nine o'clock. He was double surprised, then, that a few hours later, she returned and asked to speak to Sherlock individually again…

When Sherlock returned John didn't even get the opportunity to speak to him about what was going on before Dr. Connors had poked her head around the door and asked to speak to John. He had followed her with the rapidity of a bullet leaving the barrel of a gun, practically running along the corridor next to Dr. Connors. She had news of something, there _must _be news of some sort – otherwise she wouldn't be asking him to come out and speak to her, would she? She held the door to the relatives room open for him to follow her into.

"Take a seat," She indicated to the chair lining the walls, John's heart was doing flips inside him – he was a doctor, he knew how doctors worked, how they broke bad news… Make sure the person is not in a position to do something reckless, or to hurt themselves – offering a seat so they didn't fall over was a common one, it was the first thing taught about breaking bad news when you were training to be a doctor. John slowly lowered himself into one of the chairs, trying to steel himself for the news he was about to hear, convinced it was going to be bad.

"What is it?" John's voice cracked halfway through his sentence and jumped about three octaves up, but he didn't care, he couldn't feel embarrassed at the moment. Dr. Connors waited until she had sat down in the chair across from John before looking him straight in the eye and saying:

"We think we may have found a potential donor." John gaped at her, his heart seemed to have sped up at the potential that he had heard those words correctly.

"Pardon?" He wanted to make sure what he had heard was right before he could allow the terror in him to stop gripping him.

"We've been running some tests and we've found a match that looks like it would be the best possible option for Innes-" She started.

"How close a match?!" John asked instantly, his voice had risen in excitement; he could hardly believe this!

"Four out of five indicators the same; antibodies very similar – I have to say the lab technician who put the tests through said it was very surprising to see such a close match in two people who aren't related!" She told John, who began to nod in understanding.

"Four out of five? That's fantastic!" He exclaimed, he felt like he was being inflated on the inside with helium – expanding and expanding with happiness.

"It is really _really _good news. You do understand though, that no operation can ever be completely without risks…" She said, and John nodded again. "We do need to go through consent issues before we can do anything – you need to be willing to sign the consent forms for the surgery before we can contact the transplant coordinators, because it will be donated from a living individual everything would need to be agreed before we could go ahead." She looked up at John, and noticed that there was a slight frown creasing his face. "Is everything alright?"

"Yeah, I just…" He trailed off slowly. "It would be from a live donor?"

"Yes." Dr. Connors replied rather lightly, she wasn't sure whether John was perhaps working out for himself what Sherlock had been doing this morning. "So the transplant wouldn't be able to take place today, but it would happen as soon as we coordinate both surgeries alongside one another."

"I… are – the identity of the donor?" John started; he was suddenly hoping that the possibility that was presenting itself in his mind wasn't the correct one. "Can we find out who it is?" John knew that people could choose to donate a kidney, but sometimes those individuals didn't want their identity known – they just wanted to remain anonymous in their act.

"Yes – the donor would be Mr. Holmes." John saw the words forming on her lips and his heart plummeted.

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**A/N: As always, I'd love to know what you think of this chapter/story so far!**


	23. Chapter 23

John knew his silence was making Dr. Connors feel uncomfortable, but he couldn't help himself – he had been unable to say anything since she had informed him that it was Sherlock who was offering to donate to Innes. It was just as he feared – his very worst possible situation. He hadn't wanted to believe that it would be Sherlock, because if it was, then that meant that Sherlock was – too – going to be sliced open and a part of him removed. It was a huge risk to take; and the prospect of Innes having to be operated upon had been terrifying him already. Add to that the worry of Sherlock being operated on – and he just didn't want to think about it, he wanted to cover his ears and shove those thoughts out of his head.

"Do you want to speak to your partner?" Dr. Connors eventually asked John, after several long minutes of silence in which he stared at the ground with his hands gripping tightly onto his knees. "I can go and bring him along if you want me to?" John couldn't speak, so he nodded weakly. He saw her leave and he pushed himself out of his chair and onto his feet – he needed to be standing. If he was sitting down then he would just crumble emotionally, but if he was standing then he should be able to be strong enough to have this conversation. He turned away from the door, he felt like his insides were being ripped apart. He didn't know how to feel, he didn't know how he _should _feel…

Sherlock was still stroking Innes' forehead when Dr. Connors came back into the room, even though Innes had now fallen back asleep.

"Mr. Holmes, your partner would like to see you," She said quietly, Sherlock reluctantly stood up.

"Have you told him?" Sherlock asked as she walked alongside him in the corridor.

"I have, he hasn't said anything since I told him you were the potential donor though." She answered.

"Right," Sherlock had been worried about John's reaction; he opened the door to the relative's room and saw John standing with his back to the door. "Could you give us a few minutes please?" He requested.

"Of course." She nodded understandingly. Sherlock closed the door of the relative's room behind him, but John didn't turn around.

"John?" Sherlock questioned tentatively, but John seemed to be frozen, his arms folded across his chest – staring out of the little window in the corner of the room. Very slowly Sherlock approached him and put his hands on John's shoulders. "John?" But no sooner had Sherlock made contact with him when John furiously shrugged him off.

"I can't believe you!" John spoke finally, and his whole voice echoed with hurt. "I can't believe you went behind my back!" he had suddenly whipped around so he was facing Sherlock and his features were set, "I don't know whether I want to hug you or punch you!" The tone of John's voice was so serious that he took a step back just in case John decided to go for the latter option.

"I'm just trying to do something to help." Sherlock said quietly, still holding himself back out of arms reach of John, he knew John could pack a decent punch when he felt like it; John sighed heavily, crossing his arms tightly across his chest.

"I know that!" He answered exasperatedly, "But anything… Any other way that _this…_" Sherlock was confused by this; surely him offering to donate to Innes was a good thing? He certainly felt so, especially if it would save Innes.

"I don't understand…" He muttered. "Being able to help Innes – I thought you'd be pleased, it's a good thing."

"But by putting yourself at risk too? I wouldn't call that a good solution…" John shook his head, "I thought – I dunno, that your little chats with the doctor might just, I dunno, be arranging for Innes to get transferred to private care or something… I didn't think it would be anything this reckless!"

"Reckless?" Sherlock was shaking his head now, "How is this reckless?!" Sherlock threw his hands out to emphasize his confusion. "Standing in front of a loaded gun, chasing criminals through the streets of London – _those _things are reckless John! Offering to donate a kidney to my _son? _That's logical!"

"No, it's not Sherlock!" John shouted, he had dropped his arms from across his chest and was looking positively furious.

"Okay, right – alright!" Sherlock ground his teeth. "So if you'd been a match, you wouldn't have offered to donate because that would have been illogical, right?" Sherlock inverted the situation; he could feel a dark wave of anger rising inside of him that he was trying his best to hold on to.

"Well – I… but – no, that's…" John spluttered.

"If you're about to say that's 'different', then god help me I am leaving!" Sherlock cut over John's uncomfortable stammering, this was an issue – and not one that Sherlock wanted to hide away any more.

"But it _is _different…" John said simply, the anger had dissipated from his voice now, replaced by a dull calm.

"How?" Sherlock demanded, "Explain it to me – because I don't understand!" For a few seconds John and Sherlock's eyes locked and they gazed at each other, but then John faltered and looked away.

"I…" John started, but his voice instantly died away. He sighed and sat down, still looking away from Sherlock. "I don't know how to explain it." He said very lowly and quietly after a pause. "It just _is _different." John's pitch had dropped low.

"A few days ago you told me off for not acting concerned enough… I _am _concerned, and this is one way I can help Innes. He _needs _this, and I can provide – how is that any different from you doing the same?" Sherlock asked, John had dropped his head into his hands.

"I don't think I could cope with it." John's voice was weak, it sounded very much like he was trying to stop himself getting emotional.

"With what?" Sherlock dropped his defensive mode when he heard the scared tone in John's voice.

"If something… if something went wrong." He replied, he raised his head and his eyes were shining with tears waiting to spill over.

"Went wrong?" Sherlock repeated nonplussed.

"With you and Innes…" John expanded slightly. "If something happened I know I wouldn't be able to cope."

"Do you mean if I died on the table?" Sherlock asked bluntly.

"Don't!" John exclaimed suddenly, his voice rising again.

"And you think I'd be able to cope if our places were switched?" Sherlock asked incredulously.

"I do." John nodded. It took a few seconds for John's words to sink in.

"I – Jesus John!" Sherlock stared down at John, who had dropped his gaze once more. "So if our places were reversed and something happened to you, you think I'd just be able to carry on as normal?!"

"I know you're strong enough to cope with whatever happens."

"Do you think I don't give a damn, John? Do you honestly think I don't care?" Sherlock questioned; that hurt him deeply – that John didn't think that it would affect him if they swapped.

"That's not what I'm saying…" John murmured, sounding upset again.

"No John, it is _exactly _what you're saying!" Sherlock refuted. "That if something happened, and you weren't with me, or weren't here, that I wouldn't care enough to be bothered!" Sherlock put one hand on his hip in defiance. "I don't believe this – I don't believe you're saying this! Jesus Christ! I knew you thought I didn't care, but I didn't think it was to this level!" Sherlock turned away from John for a moment, he didn't want to show it but he felt as though John had dealt him a physical wound.

"I know you care… We've been together seven years; we couldn't have been together that long and I think you didn't care." John said somewhat muted.

"Well that's not exactly what you're telling me John…" Sherlock replied, he didn't want to argue – he was sick of arguing, but he needed to sort this out, he couldn't have John thinking that he didn't care at all, that he was emotionally stunted when it came to his family!

"I… I don't know what to say to you Sherlock." John said honestly.

"Right now, neither do I!" Sherlock answered quickly, "I cannot believe that you would allow yourself to go through that risk for Innes, but you don't want me to do exactly the same thing? It's _hypocrisy!_"

"I know…" John agreed feebly.

"If something happened to you, of course I wouldn't just waltz on with my life! I… urgh – it pains me to have to even justify to you that I care! You've reminded me _repeatedly _that Innes isn't my own flesh and blood – but you know what, he _is _my son too; and I want to help him!" Sherlock spoke firmly and determinedly. "If I do this – then Innes _will _be my flesh and blood too… I've been there all his life, I've raised him with you – how do you expect me to know that I'm a match and _not _do anything to help?"

"I… I – no." John answered. "I can't say that I expect you not to do anything."

"So… you just hoped that I wasn't a match?"

"In a way, yes…" John answered, he was ashamed of himself; how could he really admit he had hoped that – especially when Innes' life was hanging in the balance. "I _hate _myself for it, but yes… I didn't want to be put in this position, where I could lose either of you – or both of you!" John sighed heavily.

"You're viewing this completely as a los…" Sherlock told John, "If I do this, then Innes will be alright again – he will heal."

"I know that too."

"And you know that I don't have an option." Sherlock stated firmly, "You know that I've already made my decision, and I need you to trust me on it."

"I know." John repeated again, he was rubbing his hand across his face. "I know you have; and I know that its right… but I don't have to like it."

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**A/N: As always, I'd love to know what you think of this chapter/story so far!**


	24. Chapter 24

Once John had admitted that he knew what Sherlock was doing was right, it was much easier. He agreed that Sherlock had to do this – and that he wasn't really able to stop him, even if he wanted to. He knew that Sherlock's mind had already been made; he couldn't argue with him, not when he was willing to risk so much. He was willing to risk his life to save Innes. It wasn't everyone who would do that, John knew that Sherlock had thought about this – logically as was his way… He would have weighed up the options, the risks, the possibilities- and if he had come to the conclusion that he wanted to donate a kidney, then that was it...

John had to accept, there was no two ways about it. He had to accept and sign the consent forms that would allow the transplant to take place - knowing full well that it meant the two people that he loved most in the world were going to be going under the knife, they were both going to be at risk - but John had to just buck it up and accept that. The niggling feeling in his gut wasn't going be banished easily though, he knew that; he just had to prevent it from overtaking his thinking. Sherlock had refused to leave the relative's room until John had agreed that this was the best course of action for Innes and signed the consent forms so they could begin the transplant process. It wouldn't be able to get done overnight, Sherlock knew that- but the sooner they got it started the quicker Innes would be able to get the kidney and begin to heal. And Sherlock couldn't wait for that- for Innes to be alright again...

Once they had agreed, Sherlock had gone to find Dr. Connors. The next three quarters of an hour were extremely unpleasant; despite John being a doctor, and understanding the risks, it was her legal requirement to outline and explain the possible complications that could happen with this operation. Sherlock's stomach twisted as he listened to her explaining the survival rates, the possibility of rejection, the reality that Innes would spend the rest of his life on immunosuppressors. Everything that she said made Sherlock worry more, he half expected John to refuse again- but when she had finished explaining, John picked up the pen and signed the consent forms without a word. Sherlock signed his own forms, his heart heavy in his concern for John, but knowing that this was the right decision to make...

"I don't like this." John stated plainly when Dr. Connors had left to begin the process. "I won't pretend I do, but I understand that it needs to be done."

"It does John; it needs to be done for Innes." Sherlock was sitting in the chair next to John, noting that John still wasn't able to look at him. "And nothing's going to happen to me-"

"You can't promise me that!" John's voice was sharp. "You can't promise me anything that you can't know for certain!"

"I... John..." Sherlock struggled to think of how to reply to John. "I can't promise you now, but I can't have you thinking like that! You can't put all your energy into worrying, because then your energy is diverted from making sure that Innes gets better."

"I can't _not_ worry Sherlock; I don't understand how you don't get that!" John answered.

"I'm not saying don't worry _at all_... I'm saying make sure you're focusing what your attention is on."

"You and Innes are what my attention is on!" John snapped he ran his hands through his hair; he sighed heavily. "I just wish I didn't have to think about all this- I wish we hadn't been put in this situation."

"So do I John," Sherlock told him honestly, "but we have... and wishing it wasn't happening doesn't change what we're in now." There was a silence between the two of them, in the time that passed John ran his hands through his hair twice more and sighed repeatedly.

"I know Sherlock." John spoke eventually. "I know you are doing what you are because you care; I know that it needs to be done to save him. I am _glad_ that one of us is able to do something! That won't stop me from worrying though; it won't stop me from feeling like this isn't what should be happening! But I am thankful..." John finally managed to raise his head and look at Sherlock; he reached out his hand and tenderly took Sherlock's. "I'm thankful for you. I'm thankful for your heart, and that you're so selfless that you didn't even need to think about donating a kidney before offering to do so... I really am." John's eyes were brimming with tears, and he swallowed. "I love you and Innes dearly... I just want this to be okay. I want this to all be alright. It scares me; and I can't turn that off. But I will do anything I can to make sure that the both of you are healthy. I want to make sure you're both safe."

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**A/N: As always, I'd love to know what you think of this chapter/story so far! **


	25. Chapter 25

Sherlock had never been so thoroughly prodded and poked since he was in high school. The day after John had signed the consent form for the transplant, Sherlock had been co-opted away to undergo a physical exam to assess Sherlock's level of health in order to appease the transplant coordinators. Sherlock was weighed, his height measured, his body fat calculated, his lung capacity tested, his urine output calculated, and what felt like a gallon of blood drawn out through his elbow. He had undergone this process without grudge, knowing that he had to go through this to help Innes, but he did feel like some of the tests performed weren't strictly necessary. His one overshadowing doubt about his availability to donate was the fact he had been a drug user in the past – so the relief was granted when he was informed that, deplorable as drug taking and smoking were, they wouldn't have an adverse effect on the transplant, not in this circumstance anyway. With that issue aside, there was nothing to stop Sherlock from going ahead with the transplant procedure and they were given a preliminary date of the following Tuesday for the date of the operation, as long as nothing went wrong in the meantime.

Having a date set, assured that Innes didn't crash unexpectedly, was reassuring for Sherlock – the knowledge of what was coming, and when, allowed him to organise the process in his head. He had hoped that, given the four days that were intervening between them finding out that Sherlock was a match with Innes, and the day of the arranged transplant, that John might have become more accustomed to the idea of Sherlock donating to Innes. He knew that John didn't like the idea, that John was fundamentally opposed to this, but he had hoped that he might soften to the idea when he realised how imperative it was to Innes. This didn't seem to be the case; John became very withdrawn from Sherlock again – they had had a brief interlude of normality, but it had returned to the awkward silence they had been in for nearly a week whilst Innes was first in hospital, before they had known what was wrong. John didn't seem to want to be anywhere near Sherlock anymore – he avoided looking at him, he didn't speak to him unless absolutely necessary, and he had taken to sleeping in Innes' bed at night… Sherlock wanted to grab hold of John's shoulders and shake him, ask him what the hell he was doing. He should be _thankful_ for what Sherlock had offered to do! If he hadn't offered to do this, and they hadn't been able to find a donor, then Innes would be dying… there was no two ways about this. It made him angry – angry that John didn't seem to appreciate what he was going to go through for the sake of their family. But more than anger, was the overwhelming and overpowering sense of disappointment that Sherlock felt. He had never thought that John would disappoint him, but John was proving him wrong in every action he did at the moment…

So when Tuesday morning dawned Sherlock was unsurprised that when he rolled over in his bed to an empty space beside him. He sighed heavily, the sleep weighing in his eyes – he had wished that John would come and join him last night; he knew that it was going to be at the last time he was going to be at home for at least three days… he would have liked the comfort that John provided. John clearly didn't feel the same.

Sherlock had packed a small overnight bag the day before, he wasn't feeling exactly assured that John would bring anything he needed to the hospital; and he loaded it into the car with some trepidation. They were early in leaving as Sherlock had to present himself for a pre-op check at nine o'clock. John was silent for the entire journey there, his face was a greyish colour and Sherlock could see the signs of extreme nervousness that were evident in John's actions and reactions. John didn't even speak to Sherlock when they arrived at the hospital and he had to leave to find Dr. Connors to notify her of his arrival.

"I'll see you later, I guess…" Sherlock said to John, who was staring at his feet and scuffing the floor with the tops of his shoes. "It'll be alright John, I know it will." John didn't respond and Sherlock couldn't bear the silence and awkwardness between them. He had been all ready to do this four days ago, but he was feeling nervous now – he reckoned that was expected; the twisting, butterfly sensation in the pit of his stomach and the slightly increased heart rate.

Dr. Kaboul was waiting with Dr. Connors, and a third doctor – who was introduced as Dr. Jessop – for Sherlock to arrive. Dr. Jessop was the one who would be removing one of Sherlock's kidneys, and Dr. Kaboul would be transplanting it into Innes. Sherlock's vocal cords had tightened again, so he struggled to respond to their questions – all he managed to do was nod and shake his head. The only question he managed to vocally reply to was:

"Are you sure you are alright to do this?"

"Yes, I am."

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**A/N: As always, I'd love to know what you think of this chapter/story so far!**


	26. Chapter 26

Sherlock's feet were cold. He had been lying in a hospital bed, covered only by a thin gown and a sheet, waiting for Dr. Jessop and the anaesthetist to come in and see him before the operation began. He knew he hadn't been waiting long, but his mind was going into overdrive with every single thought that occurred to him. Like the fact that the NHS should have beds for people who were over five foot ten inches, as his feet were right up against the cold barrier at the bottom, and that was probably adding to the reasons why his feet were cold. The restless nerves had kicked in now, Sherlock didn't want to lie still on the bed – he couldn't seem to make himself comfortable… When he tried to relax, his mind made him think of John– and how they hadn't spoken in a few days; and what if something _did _go wrong? What if the operation went wrong and he hadn't spoken to John in days? He couldn't bear to think about that… He could ask for John to come to him before the operation, but the way that John had been acting there was no guarantee that John would oblige; and Sherlock certainly didn't want to feel any more anxious than he did already… So in trying to relax, Sherlock ended up thinking about John; and when he closed his eyes to attempt to block out those thoughts, all he could see was Innes.

There was a point when John and Sherlock thought that the kidney transplant was going to have to be done before they were able to tell Innes that it was all going to be alright, because he hadn't woken up in the time that they had been visiting him. He was very week now; his body was on full defensive mode, they could tell that he was having to fight to hold on. Even the dialysis alone was taking it out of him… However, on the Sunday evening they had managed to get the chance to speak to Innes. John had been dozing in the chair next to Innes' bed when they heard a soft cough, and Innes had woken up. John had sprung to life art the sound of Innes coughing: "Innes?"

"Daddy?" Innes' voice was soft and weak; he seemed to be teetering upon the edge of consciousness. "What's going on?"

"It's alright Innes, you're alright." John had said soothingly to him, standing at the edge of the bed. "We're here." It had been the first time that John had indicated notice to the fact that Sherlock was there also.

"I… what…" Innes was struggling to talk; it was taking a lot of effort from him. "Am I still a robot?" He asked, John smiled at him – he knew Innes was referring to the dialysis that was still filtering his blood for him.

"Yes, just for a little while longer." John was holding onto Innes' hand so tightly it looked as though he was gripping him for dear life. "But father is going to help; he's going to make you all better."

"Father?" Innes asked. "How?"

"He's going to give you a bit of himself. Your bit isn't working, but he's going to give you his instead."

"But will father be okay?" Innes' eyes had widened as much as his exhausted body could.

"Yes Innes, he'll be just fine." John was nodding. "And you will be too."

"Okay, good." Innes answered simply. "As long as father is okay too…"

Sherlock stayed back, silent during this interaction; but it had touched him that Innes had been concerned about him than he had been himself. It was a testimony to Innes – a seven year old that cared more about someone else rather than himself… Innes had fallen back unconscious not long after, the small conversation had drained him of the little energy he had had.

And now Sherlock lay, thinking about John and their lack of communication recently; and Innes, who had been so accepting of the situation the moment that it had been presented to him.

John was sitting with Innes – he was still unconscious, but he wouldn't have to be prepped for surgery until after they had taken Sherlock in. John had been dreading this day arriving all weekend, and now it was here it felt like every second was drawn out to the very extreme. His heart had been pounding somewhere in the region of his Adams apple since the moment he had woken up; and when he tried to eat something for breakfast his throat had closed up, preventing him from swallowing. The last time he had felt this nervous it had been on his deployment to Afghanistan…

John wasn't sure if Sherlock realised just how much he actually meant to him. Through all the time he had known Sherlock he had been a steady constant in his constant in his life, normally the only constant. Harry had been around when he left the army, but her drinking had driven John away. He could only think of a handful of times that he had seen her before she had appeared before her death. Then in the period of time after Harry's death when Innes had just been born, Sherlock had been there for John- he had been a solid rock. It was like Sherlock was the foundations upon which John was able to stand. Sherlock enabled John, he was the reason that John was still around. Recently though, it felt like the rock had been destabilizing from underneath John's feet, and he couldn't explain why... They had been able to cope with stress before, they had dealt with Harry's death, with Innes' adoption, with various circumstances which they had found themselves in while raising Innes (including frequent altercation with individuals over the fact a "gay couple" were raising a child). But nothing had ever shaken them like this before. Nothing had made them unstable, until now. Nothing had stopped them from speaking for this long... Maybe Sherlock thought that he was being ungrateful, maybe Sherlock was thought he was going to worry John more. Whatever the case, he couldn't just sit and wait; he couldn't let Sherlock go into this operation without knowing the truth- without knowing how much it meant him, even though that scared him.

Sherlock expected, when the door opened, for it to be the doctor and anaesthetist coming in to prep him for the operation, so he was surprised when it was John that entered the room.

"John? What are you doing here?" He asked in surprise.

"I had to come and see you." He said, rather breathlessly. "I couldn't let you go into this without speaking to you." That felt vaguely ominous to Sherlock.

"Why? Is everything okay with Innes?" Sherlock had suddenly had the horrible thought that John had come to see him _because _there was something wrong with Innes.

"What? No – no! Nothing like that!" John shook his head emphatically; he had approached the edge of the bed Sherlock was lying in rather cautiously. "I just wanted to see you before the operation…" John's voice had fallen to a low whisper as he stood awkwardly about a foot from the side of Sherlock's bed.

"Are you alright John?" Sherlock asked, although he knew that John wasn't feeling okay at the moment. John made a movement that looked like he had tried to nod and shake his head at the same time. "Come here." Sherlock extended his hand out towards John; John paused for a second and then took Sherlock's hand. This small connection seemed to unbarricade the space between them – especially for John and he moved closer to the side of the bed.

"Thank you for doing this for Innes." John spoke quietly but firmly.

"I'm not doing this just for Innes." Sherlock answered, John looked momentarily confused before Sherlock could explain himself. "I'm doing this for us – for all three of us; our family…" Sherlock squeezed John's hand in comfort. "I know how much I need you and how much I need Innes… I couldn't bear if our family wasn't together. I _need _the two of you – to keep me right. I don't think you could overestimate or exaggerate how important you have both been, or how much you have both helped me." John was beginning to look as though he had a lump of emotion in his throat; he would be desperate not to get upset this early in the day – as this was going to be a long day for him. "I understand what it means to have you and Innes. I won't treasure anything dearer than our family… and I would do anything for my family."

"Sherlock?" John spoke eventually, and without another word he leant over to where Sherlock was sitting up and kissed him. The kiss was at a slightly awkward angle as it had taken Sherlock by surprise, but it was gentle all the same. It wasn't like their firey, passion filled kisses, but tender, caring – loving. Sherlock relaxed after a second, when he realised what was going on – allowing John to cup his face with his hands. All the unspoken words, the arguments left unsaid, the silence and the distance between them felt like they were being resolved through this kiss. "I love you Sherlock." Whispered when he drew back. "I really do love you; thank you for being with me, and putting up with me."

"I certainly don't put up with you." Sherlock responded. "I love you too." John smiled weakly, and Sherlock felt some of the tangled nervousness inside him uncoiling.

At this moment they were interrupted, the door of Sherlock's room opened and in walked Dr. Jessop, and who Sherlock presumed was his anaesthetist.

"Sorry to interrupt," Dr. Jessop said, although he didn't sound very sorry. "We're just about to take Mr. Holmes up to pre-op." He explained.

"Alright," Sherlock agreed, his grip on John's hand loosening in preparation for being taken away.

"I'll be when you get out." John told Sherlock.

"I know." Sherlock nodded.

"You be careful, I want to see you back in one piece."

"With a little bit missing." Sherlock laughed and was relieved to see John was smiling too.

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**A/N: As always, I'd love to know what you think of this chapter/story so far!**


	27. Chapter 27

John wasn't the praying type – he wasn't religious, he didn't believe in some kind of omniscient higher power. What he did know, was that in times of stress during his army days, the padres had always been a source of comfort… They didn't object to "non believers", they never tried to convert the soldiers by force – they were always just there… As a listening ear, providing a way for the men and women to deal with the stresses of the job, with their pains and their losses… When Sherlock had been taken away for the operation, John had returned to Innes' room – knowing that he couldn't sit around waiting in a corridor, the act of that would tear him to shreds. He had sat next to Innes' bed, clasping his hand and telling him repeatedly that everything was going to be alright, that this would soon be over and then, they would go back to being a family as normal. He had remained there until Dr. Connors and a porter had come to collect Innes to take him along to the operating theatre. John had followed with them, wanting to at least see where the corridor he found his legs wouldn't carry him any further. He had to stop, he had to let Innes go on and him to linger behind.

"There's a waiting area you can come and sit in, if you want to." Dr. Connors offered, but John shook his head.

"No, thanks… uh, I think I'll go for a walk or something…" He had replied, he had a while to wait – hours at least, he couldn't remain confined for that long. He already felt like his heart might already burst free through his ribcage; he needed to work off some of his nervous energy to prevent it from bursting through in an unwelcome manner.

So he ended up walking through the corridors of the hospital; hospitals were like labyrinths, endless mazes full of twists, turns and dead ends. He wasn't leaving the hospital; he wasn't going to remove himself from the place where his family was. He found himself in a corridor, not a ward full of bays and rooms, but home to the hospital chapel and chaplaincy service. He wasn't sure why he had come here, or why he had stopped in this corridor, but for a while he simply stood.

"Can I help you at all?" The voice seemed to have come out of nowhere and it startled John so much he jumped. The voice belonged to a young man, younger than John by about five years, who was standing in from of the door of the chapel and smiling at him.

"I… uh – sorry, am I in the way?" John answered suddenly, he felt awkward, belittled perhaps by the sudden appearance of the man who John had only just noticed was clad in a dog-collar.

"Not at all!" He replied, "Are you looking for anyone, or…?"

"No," John said gruffly, shaking his head. "I was just – just walking, and I ended up here." The man eyed him up in a manner which reminded John forcibly of Sherlock's observation and deduction.

"Would you like a cup of tea?" He asked, "I have a kettle and mugs in my room." He offered, making a small gesture towards one of the doors in the corridor. John paused, he wasn't sure whether to accept the offer; but what else he was going to do? Wander around the hospital for the next couple of hours? And for some reason, he felt calmed by the smile on the man's face.

"Uh, sure." He replied eventually.

"This way." The man said, moving along the corridor away from the chapel and holding one of the doors open. John entered the room, it wasn't small, but it wasn't the most spacious of rooms wither. There were a couple of chairs, a desk a counter with a sink and a kettle on it, the rest of the hospital chaplains here. "I'm Reverend Mayer, I'm one of the hospital chaplains here." He introduced himself as John tentatively took a seat in one of the chairs.

"I'm John." John replied cordially.

"You're in to visit someone today John?" It sounded like a question, but it was more of a statement.

"Yeah, I – my partner and my son are both having operations." John told him, watching him fill the kettle with water and putting it on to boil.

"And you're worried about them." He nodded.

"Of course!" John said sharply, he suddenly felt very awkward. "I'm sorry, I don't know why I even came this way-" John began to stand up to leave, but Reverend Mayer held one of his hands up.

"Maybe you're here because you're worried about them." He suggested simply. "It's very common, that people find their way here when they're worried, even if they wouldn't come here at any other time… you're not a religious man, are you John?" John was surprised at this; this level of deduction was on a par with Sherlock, it made him stay where he was.

"No… I'm not." He answered honestly. "I can tell that you have been in one of the forces though."

"How did you know that?" John questioned in shock, he felt uneasy about the level of information this Reverend seemed to know about him.

"The way you hold yourself, it's easy to see when you've seen it before." He smiled, pouring boiling water into two mugs. "How do you take your tea?"

"Uh… with a little milk." John told him, "I was in the army, 5th Northumberland Fusiliers."

"I see a lot of ex-service people in here, whether patients or visitors." He had stirred in milk to one of the mugs and handed it to John, who accepted it. "The padres are there for the forces in the same way that us hospital chaplains are here." John nodded in understanding; Reverend Mayer took a seat in one of the other chairs. "Do you want to talk about your family?"

"I – well…" John began, and stopped – how could he explain what was going on? "My son needs a new kidney, and my partner is donating one of his… that's what's happening at the moment."

"And you're rightfully worried about the operation."

"I didn't want Sherlock to do it." John murmured honestly, he knew this conversation wasn't going to be repeated or be told to anyone – so he could be brutally honest. "I didn't want him to risk himself, but Innes needed it. So now they're both in surgery…" John sighed.

"I know you've said you're not religious, but would you mind if I said a prayer for them?" Reverend Mayer asked, he was leaning forwards in his seat.

"No, I don't mind." John answered. Reverend Mayer bowed his head slightly and John copied, unsure exactly of what he should do.

"Father God, I thank you for this day. I bring before you two of your children Lord, Sherlock and Innes – who are both receiving care at this hospital. Lord God, I pray that you guide the hands of the doctor and surgeons who are looking after them. I pray that you rest your healing hand upon them; heal them with your presence and allow them to leave here whole and healthy. I pray this in the name of your son, Jesus Christ. Amen."

"Amen." John echoed quietly. He had felt awkward at first, but the Reverend had spoken with such calm and peace that John couldn't help but feel slightly more assured.

When John left the chaplains room, he couldn't deny that even just telling someone else had helped raise the burden of worry from himself. It wasn't the prayer or anything linked to the religious aspect of visiting the chaplain, but the talking about the situation with someone who was outside had calmed some of his fears. The impending crushing doom had lifted as the words had flown out of his mouth. He seemed to have gushed his life story out to the Reverend: how Innes' mother had died when Innes was a baby; how John had adopted him. He had even explained how terrifying, and _real _the fear of losing Innes was to him. The reverend wasn't able to magically resolve any of these issues – but the objective and caring opinion of someone else, who could view the kaleidoscope of thoughts, reasons, and emotions, was nice. John no longer felt like he was irrationally reacting to the overall situation.

John didn't know for certain how long the surgery would last – it would all depend on the surgeons and the transplant team. Reverend Mayer had offered that John could stay in the chaplaincy room as long as he wanted, but he would have to leave to visit some other patients. John had been grateful of the offer, but sitting alone in the chaplaincy room would just be like sitting in the relative's room. He had then suggested that John visit one of the little hospital gardens that were dotted around the vicinity of the building for patients and visitors to make use of if they wished.

So this was the next place that John ended up; in a small courtyard with a few benches for people to sit on and a water feature running through the centre, collecting in a pond which was home to several large gold fish.

They were probably designed with calm in mind – sheltered from the harsh winds, with the gentle sound of running water pleasant on the ear. It was the kind of calm that sent gentle shivers up John's spine and made the hairs on his arms stand on end. It was tranquility – away from worry and away from fear.

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**A/N: As always I'd love to know what you think of this chapter/story so far!**


	28. Chapter 28

"Dr. Watson!" John spun round to see Dr. Connors racing towards him along the corridor. "We weren't sure if you had left the hospital or not." John didn't know how long he had spent outside in the garden, he hadn't kept a track of time, He had gone back inside when his fingers began to feel numb from the cold, and then he had bought himself a cup of tea and sat in the coffee shop for a little while, returning to Innes' ward only because he wasn't sure where else he could go. Now he was gripped with a spasm of fear – they had been looking for him!

"What? Why?" He asked instinctively.

"I just heard word – not even ten minutes ago – from the surgeon operating on Innes, they were just about to start closing up." She told John, "Everything had gone perfectly when I was speaking to them."

"All good?" John asked, his diaphragm pressing tightly against his lungs.

"All good!" She nodded, smiling. John exhaled so quickly that he made himself dizzy; Dr. Connors had obviously sensed danger of some kind because she reached out her hand and grasped John's forearm in a steadying action. "Are you alright? Do you want to take a seat?" She offered quickly as John composed himself.

"No, I'm fine – seriously, I'm alright!" John insisted as she seemed to be leading him towards a plastic chair situated in the corridor. "Sherlock! What about Sherlock?" John asked her.

"I haven't actually enquired about Mr. Holmes, I can find out what ward he is going to be taken to..." She began, but John cut over the top of her.

"What? What ward? You mean he's not going to be brought here?" John spoke sharply.

"Well… no." She answered, "Mr Holmes will be taken to an adult ward for him to recover in."

"No, no, you've got to bend that! You've got to get him brought here, with Innes!" John responded pleadingly.

"It's not usual protocol." She tried to tell John.

"Please! How am I expected to split myself between my partner and my son!" John intimated, she paused for a second and then nodded her head.

"I'll see what I can do." She agreed.

It seemed like Dr. Connors did have some sway, as when she came to find John – who was sitting in Innes' room now – she had good news.

"Mr. Holmes and Innes will be brought here." She informed John.

"Thank you." John nodded in gratitude. "So the surgery?"

"Went as planned, no problems at all." She answered. "They'll be brought down here shortly."

'Shortly' turned out to be longer than John had expected, it was more than twenty minutes before several porters appeared at the door, wheeling both Innes and Sherlock in on beds. John didn't know who to turn to first; a dam had been unleashed inside him and he didn't even feel the tears of relief until they were on his face and dripping off his chin. Dr. Kaboul and Dr. Jessop came along with the two of them, both looking tired but pleased with themselves.

"Dr. Watson, I believe you've already been told by my colleague that that everything went well in the surgery." Dr. Kaboul said to him. "Dr. Jessop was able to remove a kidney very cleanly from Mr. Holmes and I transplanted it into Innes, there were no issues in the surgery. All we have to do now is let them recover." He was smiling, so was Dr. Jessop.

"Thank you – thank you so much!" John gushed.

"You're very welcome." Dr. Jessop replied, "It might take a little while for the anaesthetic to wear off – and they might be a little groggy when they come round… if you need anything, just give one of the nurses a bell and they'll come along and see you."

"Thank you." All John seemed to be capable of doing was repeating himself, grasping each of the doctor's hands in turn.

Sherlock was the first to come round; John had sat on the chair, positioned carefully between the two beds with a clear view of each. The first notification of Sherlock waking was a small twitch, Sherlock's arm moved as though he was flexing it involuntarily; then his whole body arched and he let out a small groan, his eyes flickering.

"Sherlock?" John jumped to his feet and raced to grab Sherlock's hand.

"Oh god…" He mumbled, opening his eyes slowly and blinking like he was clearing sleep from his eyes.

"Sherlock? How are you feeling?" John asked quickly, his heart had begun to race once more.

"Like I've been hit by a bus." Sherlock answered, his voice was raspy from having been intubated during the operation. "How did it go?"

"Well, really well! Perfect actually!" John told him, a quaver of emotion running through his voice.

"Good." Sherlock muttered, he began to try and sit up, but John put his hand firmly on Sherlock's shoulder.

"No Sherlock, you need to stay lying down." John instructed, "I can put a pillow down behind your head if you want to be a bit further up?"

"Please?" John rearranged the pillows on the bed, propping Sherlock up a little more. John pulled his chair closer to Sherlock's bed so that he wouldn't have to let Sherlock's hand go, but still at an angle where he could see Innes.

"How is Innes?" Sherlock inquired, he wasn't far enough up to see Innes where he was positioned.

"Still asleep, but much better thanks to you." John squeezed Sherlock's hand. 2How does it feel?"

"What? Having a kidney missing?" Sherlock responded, "Sore."

"No, I don't mean that…" John replied calmly, "I mean how does it feel having saved our family?"

"Still sore." Sherlock repeated, John chuckled slightly, moving off his chair again so he could kiss Sherlock briefly.

"Do you want me to find out about your pain relief?" John questioned, but Sherlock shook his head as much as he could.

"Nah… I didn't want opiates, so I'm pretty sure I'm on the strongest pain medication they can give me otherwise." He explained, "I couldn't really expect anything less though – a little bit of pain is kind of in the bargain of being cut open and a bit taken out."

"I guess." John bit his lip. "But you'll let me know if it gets too much, yes?"

"I will, believe me." Sherlock said.

Innes didn't wake immediately, actually Sherlock began to get concerned when he had been awake for nearly an hour and Innes had shown no signs of awakening.

"He's only little Sherlock, the anaesthetic will have a different effect on him than it will have on you." John explained, he wasn't allowing himself to worry about Innes yet – he was stable and they'd know if that changed. "He's stable, he's alright – don't get yourself worried."

"I'm not." Sherlock protested, "I'm just –"

"Father?" Innes' voice had broken over Sherlock's, he had woken up without either of them noticing. John spun round and simultaneously held a restraining hand on Sherlock's shoulder to prevent him from sitting up and ripping his stitches out.

"I'm still tired," He murmured sleepily, mirroring Sherlock's actions and trying to sit up.

"No, no, no… you have to stay lying down Innes – you've had an operation." John said calmly. "You've got to rest so you can get better."

"I've had an operation?" Innes questioned. "So does that mean there's a bit of father inside me?"

"That's exactly what it means. You've got one of father's kidneys inside you now."

"And that'll make me better?" John knew they had already gone through this, but the clarification was good for Innes' understanding and for re-affirming inside John that everything had gone alright.

"It will Innes, but you need to rest for a little bit first – you need to heal before we can get back to normal!" John was nodding to Innes.

"And then I can go back to school?" Sherlock couldn't stop himself from chuckling at Innes' question.

"You really like the Vikings, don't you?" Sherlock said, laughing.

"Yeah!" Innes answered enthusiastically.

"Well good, we'll get you back up to speed with everything you need to know while you're getting better." John placated.

"Cool!" Innes agreed, "Thank you father!"

"What for?" Sherlock asked.

"For giving me a bit of you to make me all better!" Innes said, as though this was obvious.

"You don't need to thank me for that Innes; I just want you to get better." Sherlock answered, "I love you son."

"I love you too father."

John was positioned in the middle of this interaction; one hand holding onto Sherlock's hand and the other hand gripping one of Innes'. He looked from one, to the other, having to strain to keep his emotions in check. They were both safe, they had both made it through their operations and were alright. John was so relieved that he didn't know what to do – whether to laugh or cry; he was flooded with a warm, happy feeling that came with the security that his family were fine. It had all gone well; he wasn't sure why he had gotten himself so worried in the first place! It was nice sitting with the two of them, holding onto their hands – it felt like everything would go right from now on. It could only get better from here on out.

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**A/N: As always, I'd love to know what you think of this chapter/story so far!**


	29. Chapter 29

The transplant operation had only been the first step on Innes' road to recovery… John and Sherlock were assured that, although Innes was doing well, they couldn't expect too much too quickly. Innes' body had a lot of new information to deal with; the immunosuppressor drugs that he was going to be on for the rest of his life would make him more susceptible to viruses' and germs, but suppressing Innes' immune system was more favourable than allowing his body to reject the transplanted kidney. John wasn't fazed about Innes' continual recovery, he had known that one operation wouldn't gift wrap the situation, making it perfectly new, or tied up in a bow… but it did give Innes the best chance of a decent recovery.

John's relationship with Sherlock had improved from the day of the transplant operation. John's fear had been alleviated when the operation had been a success, and instantly, their behaviour before had seemed remarkably childish. It was like John had come to realise how much Sherlock viewed and protected the two of them like they were his blood. It was now an embarrassing thought to remember that he had accused Sherlock of not caring at all – oh how Sherlock had proved him wrong!

Sherlock was discharged from the hospital three days after the operation, on the strict advice that he was to rest. He wasn't allowed to drive and he wasn't to expect for the operation not to have taken a toll on his body. It was as though the doctors were trying to remind him of what he liked to deny; he wasn't invincible and his body wouldn't thank him if he treated it like he was. At least there was Innes to keep Sherlock occupied – the instructions he had been given to rest allowed Sherlock to research everything that Innes could have possibly missed at school, so he could bring Innes up to speed…

Two weeks after the transplant operation, Innes was finally discharged and allowed to go home. He wasn't allowed to go back to school just then though; he had an outpatient appointment for a week later that would be able to assess his physical health. Innes was champing at the bit after a week at home; he _desperately _wanted to go back to school. It felt like their whole life was getting back to the way it usually was again…

There was one added extra that had presented itself from the whole situation, and that was the closer knit family unit that had come out of the hospital. John, Sherlock and Innes seemed to have finally – after seven years – made the transition from guardians and child, to a proper family… And that, over and above all the distress, the pain and the worry of the situation, was worth it.

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**A/N: This is the end! I know it has been rather whirlwind written, it is definitely not my best - but I hope you've enjoyed reading it! :)**


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